


Night Changes

by loveinslowmotion



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift - Fandom
Genre: Camping, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Haylor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinslowmotion/pseuds/loveinslowmotion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry asked Taylor on a spontaneous camping trip, he'd been sure she was going to say no. An hour later, they were heading out of the city together and making a tragic attempt at setting up a tent. With marshmallow roasting, awkward dancing, hair braiding, Polaroid taking, song sharing, hiking adventures, friend phone calls, playing doctor, copious amounts of chocolate, and hands that won't keep to themselves, feelings run high when they realise just how fast the night changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I hate to make you read a long note before this but I would really appreciate it if you did so all this makes more sense. I started writing this fic some time at the end of last year and have been drifting in and out of muse for months until I finally finished it. It's set sometime near the start of 2014 (pre 1989 and sometime during WWA) with no specific/logical location so it's whatever geographical wonderland you like. This is in no way real, I do not claim for any of this to have happened, but it's written as if it /could've/ been a secret they kept from the public eye. Look at them as two people who are still crazy for each other. What would you do if you were in a tent with the person you're crazy heart eyes for and you probably can't see again after? Enough said. Enjoy xxx

**Text:** to **_Tay_**

**>** _Do you want to get out of here for a while? x_

**Text:** from **_Tay_**

**>** _I don’t know if that’s a good idea…_

**>** _What if someone finds out?_

**Text:** to **_Tay_**

**>** _So we take a drive out of the city._

**>** _If you don’t want to that’s okay. I just found a tent I didn’t know I had and was wondering if you wanted to come test it out with me?_

**>** _Camping by yourself sounds kind of sad._

**Text:** from _**Tay**_

**>** _Stop guilting me into it :P_

**Text:** to **_Tay_**

**>** _Is it working?_

**Text:** from ** _Tay_**

**>** _I don’t know how I’ll get out of my apartment without anyone noticing._

**>** _All the cameras._

**Text:** to **_Tay_**

**>** _Wear a disguise and pretend to be one of your neighbours._

**>** _I’ll wear a fake moustache so no one will know it’s me either._

**Text:** from **_Tay_**

**> ** _Or because you can’t grow your own :P_

**>** _You could pick me up from Karlie’s? I don’t think she’ll mind._

**Text:** to **_Tay_**

**>** _I could if I wanted to!_

**>** _You sure that’ll work?_

**Text:** from **_Tay_**

**>** _You keep telling yourself that :P_

**>** _Not really._

**Text:** to **_Tay_**

**>** _You’ll see ;)_

**>** _Just take a small bag with clothes and whatever else you want to bring. I’ve got everything else._

**Text:** from **_Tay_**

**>** _Harry you hardly get any stubble let alone a full on moustache :P_

**>** _How long have you been planning this?_

**Text:** to **_Tay_**

**>** _You cruel reminder!_

**>** _So I’ll pick you up in about an hour then? :)_

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

If it seemed awfully suspicious that Harry had just found a tent in his cupboard and conveniently had all the supplies they needed for camping, it’s probably because it was. He’d found it about a week ago when he was having a bit of a clean-up during a break from touring, and with a (sort of) bright idea he had spent the following days gathering everything necessary for a few days away. Plus it had taken him that long to man up and actually ask Taylor — the first person who had sprung to mind when he considered who he wanted to get away with. He was convinced she was going to say no, that he was being ridiculous. Really, it _was_ ridiculous. The chances of them getting caught were crazy high and he knew they would get a lot of backlash for it, but the idea of spending some time away from everything with her just sounded like too perfect an offer not to suggest. He figured if he sprung it on her without giving her too much time to think about it, he might actually get the answer he wanted.

“This is insane,” was the first thing Taylor said when she climbed into the car an hour and a half after the first text message. If it weren’t for the eager smile on her face and her tossing her bag onto the back seat, Harry was sure she was about to back out.

“Welcome to the craziest trip of your life,” he grinned back at her as she laughed, and they turned back onto the road before anyone noticed them lingering. They’d tried to time it as well as they could, Harry circling the streets with no headlights until he’d gotten the all clear from Taylor. They still couldn’t be sure they hadn’t been seen, though.

Twisting in her seat, Taylor clapped her hands on her thighs. “So where are we off to?”

“There’s a camp ground just over an hour out of the city, and there’s a couple more further along, too,” he explained. “We could just stay at the first one, or we could venture a little further if you want. I’m open to suggestions.”

“I _knew_ you had a proper plan!” she beamed. “You wouldn’t have asked me — someone who needs plans to function — to come if you didn’t.”

“Is that why you said yes?”

“Kind of,” she shrugged. “You’re spontaneous, but you’re not stupid. You’ve thought this through.”

She wasn’t wrong there. Harry had spent every day since discovering he owned a tent sorting out the details that would, hopefully, mean they could have an enjoyable, carefree time. He’d Googled the camp grounds around the area and plotted how to get to each, collected things from around the house that they could take, made a list of things he would have to buy, and came up with some ideas of what they could do once they got there. Really, it would’ve been beyond disappointing if Taylor had said no and he was left with all this food and packed blankets with no one to share them with. The one thing he couldn’t remember was why on earth he’d bought a tent in the first place, which he supposed didn’t really matter since it was now giving him an excuse to spend time with the girl he’d been dying to see in person again. Pats on the back for past Harry.

Present Harry, however, was momentarily distracted by Taylor reaching into the back for her bag. It was only nine o'clock and it was quiet out, but, y'know, attention is always important.

“Karlie gave us some cookies she made yesterday. And she said to be careful,” she told him, rummaging through her things for the container. In her rush she’d thrown in anything she thought she might need, and it wasn’t exactly the most organised. She thought she’d sort it out better later.

“Well that was nice of her,” he smiled as he took the cookie she offered, happily biting into the almond biscuit.

“She also told me to tell you to keep your eyes on the road,” Taylor said, the sound of her laughter filling the car as Harry nodded and obediently looked forward. Some things never change. “And to keep your hands to yourself,” she added, watching him carefully for his reaction.

Harry licked his lips slowly, picking up specks of cookie crumbs on his tongue as he did. He’d worried that maybe she would see his invitation as seeking something more than friends and that that would deter her. They were going to be huddled up in a small tent for a few days, just the two of them, after all. It wouldn’t be entirely impossible. In that part of him he kept hidden away, he _hoped_ something would happen between them. He hoped that maybe spending time together would make her see how he’d changed and their old flame would be rekindled. He hoped their friendship getaway would turn into something more, but what were the chances of that, huh?

“Do you think that’s why I asked you to come?” he asked hesitantly, wanting to take the question back even more when she took a while to answer. 

“As romantic as running away together is, I didn’t think of that when I said yes. I’m happy with not putting too much thought into all this, to be honest. It would kind of take away the point, y'know? This is meant to be, like, impulsive fun.”

Um, okay? Add that to the list of things she said that Harry didn’t really know what she meant — was that a _I don’t mind whatever that may happen if we get cold in the middle of the night and we only have each other to keep us warm because hey we’re just friends having fun?_ He was pretty sure it wasn’t, but he couldn’t help the part of his, uh, brain, that got excited at the thought.

If he was honest, Harry had never _really_ gotten over Taylor. (Meaning, he hadn’t gotten over her in the slightest.) It had been over a year since they’d broken up, but he still thought about her too often to count. That was the thing about restoring their friendship — Harry struggled to get her off his mind when they were regularly texting and occasionally video chatting whenever their schedules lined up and they had the chance. He was constantly reminded of why he had fallen for her, so it was hardly surprising he still imagined walking around holding her hand and cooking her dinner and falling asleep with her in his arms, amongst other things.

Things between them were friendly, and arguably they were closer than ever. They really knew each other now — not that they didn’t before, but now they were sharing things with each other like best friends, not like two people learning each other while trying to navigate a romance in the public eye. They joked and teased and, perhaps most confusingly, flirted with each other. Well, Harry _thought_ it was flirting. He sure was whenever the opportunity seemed fit, but he wasn’t entirely sure Taylor was doing it back. It was hard to tell expression over text, but winky faces seemed like a universally suggestive indicator.

That was another reason why he had invited her on this trip — Harry didn’t realise he was doing it, but he was sort of testing her. All this time spent over-analysing something she’d said was going to be no more. In person, he had more of a chance of understanding what she really meant. (So far this wasn’t proving true, but you can only hold onto hope.) Maybe, _maybe_ , by the end of this he might know Taylor’s feelings for him, because for months he hadn’t had the slightest idea what the truth was.

Harry’s wistful idea of the truth was that Taylor actually still wanted him. Desperately he wanted to show her that he could do it properly if they ever gave it another shot. But if he was completely honest with himself, he knew, really, he still wasn’t ready. It hadn’t been all that long in the grand scheme of things, and as much as he’d grown he knew he just wasn’t old enough yet to handle the kind of commitment he longed to have with her. One day, though. For now, being friends with her was one of the best things he had.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

By half past ten, they were parked in the furthest space in the car park and off near the edge of the camp ground — not that it was exactly full, anyway. With school still in, they didn’t have to worry about a whole bunch of families bustling about. Most people around would be keeping to their tents at this time of night, too.

While it had been an advantage arriving at night when they weren’t likely to bump into anyone, the flaw in Harry’s plan was now pretty obvious — they had to set up the tent in the dark.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Course.”

But as the pole he’d just attached to another came loose and started slipping out the slot in the fabric, poking his foot and making the tent look like a deflated blob, it was very clear Harry had no clue.

“Where’s the instruction manual?” Taylor asked, jumping up from the cooler she’d been sitting on and going in search of the bag the tent came in.

“We don’t need it,” Harry insisted with stubborn manly pride as he tried to get the two poles to stay in place. Reaching for the hammer, he managed to secure them and peg down the side by himself, miraculously. But Taylor really wasn’t going to let it go now.

“It says you needed to do this pole before that one,” she informed him, skipping over with a diagram and a torch in her hands. “See.”

Harry glanced it over and shrugged it off. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not falling down, so we’re fine.”

“If it falls down while we’re inside, don’t doubt that I’ll wave this manual in your face and say I told you so,” Taylor smiled, waving the booklet at him now for emphasis.

Chuckling, he shook his head, “It won’t. Trust me.”

“Only ‘cause you’re going to let me help.”

Taylor playfully poked him in the stomach and took the hammer from him without waiting for his response. Really, he should’ve let her help from the start since she was so pro let’s-read-the-instructions-for-the-thing-we’re-gonna-be-sleeping-in, but everyone knows silly men like to show off with things outdoorsy.

Together they managed to figure out the tent situation without _too_ much struggle, and once they’d bundled all their stuff inside there wasn’t a whole lot of room left for the two of them. With their belongings stacked up on one side, the rest of the space was covered in a layer of blankets so they weren’t sleeping on the cold hard ground — pun completely intended. It was… cosy?

“Where did you find these?” Taylor asked once they were sat on their makeshift bed — _their_ bed, fuck yes.

Harry shrugged a bit as he unnecessarily moved one of the little lanterns he’d brought for light a bit further over. “Saw them in a shop in London a while ago. Haven’t really used them much, though.”

“They’re cute,” she smiled, crossing her legs and picking at the blanket underneath them. They’d spent the drive over talking and singing along to the radio, acting exactly as they always did with each other, and now that they were settled in the calm of the camp it seemed too quiet between them. Harry had worried about that — that they’d run out of things to talk about and it would get awkward too quickly and this whole thing would be a disaster.

But he should’ve known their friendship better than that. With Taylor asking the important question — “So what food did you bring?” — their momentary silence evaporated.

Harry swivelled around and grabbed one of the bigger bags from the stack and dropped it between them. Harry, the gentleman, had offered to take the spot by the pile in case anything toppled over in the night so it would land on him instead of her, not that that was likely anyway. It was the thought that counted.

“Are we gonna roast marshmallows?!” Taylor gasped as they descended on the collection of treats. “And you got cookies too; we could make s'mores!”

Harry grinned as he watched her pick out what he’d brought. “And I got heaps of chocolate too, so we could melt some for the marshmallows,” he suggested. “And I got some strawberries too.”

Her eyes lit up, wide with brows raised in surprise. “You even got _strawberries?_ ”

“What? I thought if we’re going to be camped out in the middle of nowhere we may as well have something nice.”

She looked relieved not to be roughing it and like an eager child on Christmas morning as she continued rifling through the bag. “What’s the whipped cream for?” she asked when she stumbled upon his cheekier addition to the grocery list.

“’s for later,” Harry winked at her as he pulled out the can and sprayed some of the cream straight into his mouth.

_“Harry!”_ Taylor laughed, shaking her head. “You’re not the only one who wants to use that, y'know.”

One of the things Harry was really thankful for was that they could still joke around with each other. It had taken them a bit to get to that point again, but now they teased each other just as much as they used to, maybe even more so when they really got going.

Spraying a careful dot on his finger, Harry leaned across to wipe it on the tip of her nose. Taylor was quick to figure him out though, and she tilted her head up and licked it off his finger before he had the chance to smear it on her face. “We’re not starting this,” she smiled, leaning back on her hands as he retreated. “You know what happened last time.”

Uh, how could he forget? That had been one of the best — and messiest — nights of his life, whipped cream all through his apartment and cleaning each other with their tongues _fuck_. Why else did she think he’d bought it, honestly.

“What drinks did you bring?” Taylor asked, and she crawled across the bed when Harry just nodded towards to cooler. As he ripped open a packet of Doritos, she opened the lid and looked through the various bottles of water, iced tea and Diet Coke. “Um?” she raised her eyebrow as she pulled out one of the bottles from further down. “Do you always take vodka when you’re camping?”

“I didn’t intend on us getting wasted,” Harry shrugged a bit, the liar. “Just thought it might be fun.”

“These cruisers scream fun,” she rolled her eyes, returning the straight bottle and inspecting a bottle of orange liquid instead. “You know there’s hardly anything in these, right?”

“I know,” he replied through a mouthful of cheese supreme.

“Did you get them 'cause of me?”

“Why’d you say that?”

Taylor gave him a look; she didn’t need to explain herself. She wasn’t typically a hard party girl and he’d played it safe with some light stuff. No big deal.

“’s what the first bottle is for,” he said, nodding his head towards the cooler. “Mixing.”

Harry held the Dorito packet out to her when she returned to her spot opposite him with a Coke and a straw — he remembered she liked them so she didn’t smudge her lipstick, not that he expected her to wear any here anyway. “Have you got more surprises up your sleeve?” she wondered, picking a chip and taking a bite.

“I don’t know. Do I?” Harry lifted up the hem of his t-shirt sleeve and peered under, smile creeping up on his face as Taylor started to laugh.

“Maybe I’ve got some up mine,” she giggled, looking under her own sleeve. That was one thing Harry had always loved about Taylor — she didn’t shoot down his jokes. She laughed and went along with them, maybe only so he wouldn’t feel bad, but even then that’s a good thing, isn’t it? He wished _some_ people appreciated them like she did. (Ahem, his band mates who had long since given up on his knock knock jokes.)

“I might have a surprise planned,” he said mysteriously, leaning forward to add to the intrigue.

It worked — Taylor leaned in too so their heads were only inches apart. “Tell me,” she whispered, like they were two kids sharing their top secrets.

Harry opened his mouth as if he was about to reveal something important and exciting, only his surprise turned out to be not that at all. It was a Dorito to the chest, leaving orange crumbs on both her crop top and skirt when it bounced off and landed on her lap. She gave him a friendly slap on the arm, eating the chip before he had a chance to take it back.

“Jerk,” she said, though she was smiling widely as she brushed herself off.

“I might have some actual surprises,” he relented.

“I would certainly hope so!” Taylor laughed. “You didn’t bring me all the way out here so we could just sit in here, did you?”

“Definitely. Just wanted to sit with you for a while.”

“Will you keep smiling for me?”

“How could I not smile at you?”

Maybe it was the low light, or maybe Taylor’s cheeks were actually turning a little pink. She was certainly fighting back a grin as she looked down and busied herself with opening her drink and sliding in her straw.

“Thank you for choosing me,” she said softly. “It’s been ages since we’ve done anything together.”

“Here’s to hoping we won’t have anything to worry about.”

Harry pulled out another Dorito and they confirmed their child-like friendship as they bumped their chip and drink together like a toast.

Harry couldn’t explain how much he had missed this.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It had taken a bit of effort to actually get in bed once they decided it wasn’t a good idea stay up until sunrise eating everything on the first night. The toilet block wasn’t anywhere near their tent and it wasn’t really safe to be walking off alone into the darkness while the other guarded their stuff, so with a silent agreement of no peeking, they changed with their backs to each other. Not that Harry really cared what she saw, but he respected that she wasn’t as open as him. He held up a mirror for Taylor that she had brought while she removed her make up and took out her contacts, too. He didn’t mind that either; he had always liked just watching her sometimes. He found her fascinating; he had trouble taking his eyes off her most of the time.

After switching off the lanterns and saying goodnight, Harry found himself lying in this new bed unable to sleep. Tired from rushing around making sure he had everything in the morning and from the drive over here — not to mention the anxiety of actually asking Taylor in the first place — he had been sure he was going to crash way before they had decided to get some sleep. But staying up talking about nothing much important and going through too many Doritos, plus the excitement of the days ahead, had him wide awake.

“Harry?”

Taylor’s sudden whisper startled him.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

They both turned in to face each other at the same time, and even though they struggled to see each other clearly in the dark they could tell by the rustle of the blankets and it made the pair of them laugh.

“I can’t see you.”

“I can’t see you either.”

“Ow!”

“Sorry.”

“You could’ve poked my eye out.”

“I was just trying to find your face.”

“Congratulations, you found your way up my nose.”

“This feels like Christmas Eve.”

“If your idea of Christmas Eve is sticking your finger up people’s noses, I’m not sure I want to spend it with you.”

“Fuck you,” Harry said with no sincerity, laughing as he fell back and crossed his arms over his chest unnecessarily.

“Haaaaaaarryyyyyyyy.” Taylor giggled as she poked him in the arm — at least one of them had better aim in the dark. “I’ll try and poke you in the dimple.”

“’m not smiling.”

“Liar.”

“Stop poking me.”

“Not until you look at me.”

In a quick movement, Harry grabbed her hand and turned back to face her, this time moving in close until they bumped noses — more accurate aim this time. “Is this better?”

“Please stop looking at me.”

“Cheeky."

If it had been before he would’ve given her a playful tap on the bum and kissed her by now. Instead he shuffled back from her, making it less tempting to try anything that probably wouldn’t end well anyway.

"Me and Gem used to stay up whispering about what we thought Santa was gonna get us when we were little,” he explained instead. That was safe.

“Austin and I used to do that. We were always wrong.”

“Except if you guessed chocolate. Then you’re _never_ wrong.”

“And gift cards.”

“Bet now it’s cat toys for you, huh?”

“Fuck you.”

“Watch your language.”

“Okay, dad.”

“I can barely see you and I know you rolled your eyes.”

“You know me too well.”

As if that was a bad thing.

“So what do you want to do tomorrow?”

“You’re the one who planned this; don’t you have an itinerary or something?”

“Do I look like a man who writes itineraries?”

“You look like a—”

“A what?”

She stayed quiet for a moment.

“I think we should go bird watching.”

“Did you bring any binoculars?”

“No.”

“Then how are we meant to go bird watching?”

“You open your eyes.”

“Ha ha. I think we should go exploring.”

“Is that not what I just said?”

“You said we should look at birds.”

“We don’t have to look at them the _entire_ time. I’m sure there are plenty of other things to look at.”

“We should climb a tree.”

“Why?”

“So we could swing across vines like Tarzan and Jane.”

“Oh my god, you did not just call us Tarzan and Jane.”

“I think I’d look quite good in a loin cloth.”

“Oh god, that was a mental image I really didn’t need.”

“I’m going to make one out of one of your shirts just because you said that.”

“I’d say I’ll wear one of yours, but you’d probably like that wouldn’t you?”

“You know me too well.”

Their eyes were adjusted enough by now to see each other’s smiles.

“We should put on a concert for the birds. Or a concert _of_ birds. We can get a group of them and start conducting.”

“Like a bird musical. A _birdsical._ ”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please?”

“Fine. Only because you’re doing one of your pouty faces.”

“It’s awfully dark in here.”

“It is.”

“I thought it would be brighter.”

“Maybe the trees are blocking the moon.”

“Maybe.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Move your hand.”

“What?”

“Just because I can’t see your hand doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you—” Taylor cut herself off with a scream as she felt something move up her thigh, and as she wriggled around frantically Harry burst into laughter at her reaction. “I hate you!” she gasped, giving him a punch in the arm for the joke and turning away from him in a huff.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said as he calmed down. It hadn’t been very nice, considering he knew how much she really didn’t like bugs, but he couldn’t help himself. The opportunity was there and his fingers had just gone ahead and taken it.

“No you’re not,” she mumbled as he moved over and gave her an apology hug.

“I’m really sorry.”

“You’re mean. Goodnight.”

“I’m sorry, Tay.”

“Done talking to you. Please wake up a nicer person.”

“Forgive me?”

“Goodnight Harry.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Later, when Harry had lain awake for a while longer and was on the brink of sleep, he was sure Taylor had already drifted off yet he heard her turn over and shuffle closer to him, whispering what he realised she hadn’t intended on him actually hearing.

“You look like love.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter was SO hard. I have no idea how H really reacted but hey this is all fiction anyway.

Harry woke the next morning to a rustling beside him and, upon inspection once he’d rubbed his eyes open, a pair of quite nice underwear that had landed on his pillow. “Is it sexy time?” he smirked lazily as he hooked them around his finger and tossed the violet fabric at Taylor sitting beside him. She jumped at the sound of his raspy morning voice, her cheeks turning red as she picked the tiny briefs up from her lap and balled them in her fist. Something else he wasn’t meant to know.

“Um, it’s about quarter past eight,” she said quietly as she continued rummaging through her bag.

Harry groaned as he closed his eyes and curled up in a ball away from her. “Why are we awake?”

“I can’t find my glasses.”

”’s not really a proper answer.“

“Go back to sleep, then.”

But with Taylor going through her stuff beside him, he was a bit distracted. It was a lot brighter in the tent now the sun was up too, not that that was a major problem. Harry didn’t seem to have trouble falling asleep just about anywhere. She knew that too — one time she’d gone to the bathroom in the middle of a game of UNO and returned to find him asleep on the floor. He’d woken up slightly less jetlagged with a blanket over him and a draw four stuck to his face. Classy.

Hearing her sigh of relief, Harry could tell Taylor had found what she was looking for, and a minute or so later she’d packed up her stuff and returned to bed. “You going to sleep a bit longer?” she asked softly as she got herself comfortable again. Harry mumbled something that didn’t really sound like a yes as he cuddled up to her, head resting against her shoulder and his arm around her waist. He was tired. He could use that excuse.

“’m getting comfortable,” he told her when she sighed his name in not really the way he wanted her to.

“What about when I get hungry?”

“I’ll be asleep by then; I won’t notice.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally,” she said, a smile having formed in her voice. Harry laughed a little and soon fell back to sleep the way he’d wanted to for months.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“Is it sexy time _now?”_ Harry asked when he woke up a while later, and with his arm still around her he felt Taylor gasp in surprise. He’d been awake for a few minutes already, just watching her over her shoulder as he kept spooning her _holy shit._ She’d been messing around on her phone, judging by the red battery symbol at the top the whole time he’d been getting some extra rest.

“Not when you keep scaring me,” she answered, which wasn’t technically a complete rule out of the idea, to his hopeful delight. “I’m glad you finally decided to wake up; I’m starving.”

“I said you could get something when you got hungry.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Harry took that as an “I didn’t want to leave you,” which probably wasn’t fair but didn’t stop him nonetheless. A boy could dream.

“There’s some Coco Pops in the bag.”

“Oh my god you’re five years old,” Taylor laughed, shifting onto her back and grinning at him. She looked different with her glasses on, her blue eyes given a new frame. Harry liked that he was one of the few who got to see her with them. It was a small thing that just seemed kind of special.

“’m quite big for a five year old,” he said, hand still on her stomach. He wanted to slip it under her top, touch her skin like he used to, but he knew he shouldn’t. Even this felt a little close for just friends. Did she spoon with all her friends? Harry didn’t think he liked the sound of that.

“You don’t ask as many questions either,” she noted.

“’m smart for my age.”

“But you don’t know _everything_.”

This was true. At twenty, there was still a lot Harry had to learn. There was the textbook stuff — the things you could pick up a book or hit up Google for. There were all the things that would only come with age — like how to grow with someone and start a loving family that could last the test of time. And then there was the stuff he might never know — like what was going on in that pretty little head of Taylor’s.

Maybe if he really was five years old he wouldn’t be too nervous to ask what she really thought of him.

“It’s practically lunch time now anyway, you know?” Taylor informed him, reaching up and tucking a strand of his hair back behind his ear. Harry wondered if she could tell his heart skipped a beat when her fingers brushed against his cheek.

“What’s wrong with Coco Pops for lunch?” he asked seriously, his focus on food disintegrating as she sat her hand down on top of his own. He should’ve expected this.

As appealing as it was to lay and watch Taylor smile at him for the rest of eternity, she had other plans as she sat up and patted his leg over the blankets. “C'mon. You’re starving me for longer than necessary.”

They stayed inside while they ate their bowls of definitely not five year old cereal which Taylor _may_ have continued teased him about. (“Did you _import_ these?” “I don’t want your shitty Cocoa Krispies.) Honestly, it felt normal. Running off to camp out on impulse was completely not at all normal, but sitting in their pyjamas, chatting and eating Coco Pops in the middle of the day, just felt so happily simplistic. This was how Harry imagined taking the university path would’ve been. He pictured staying up all night with his best friend and eating Coco Pops at whatever goddamn hour he pleased because he was a stressed out lazy law student. He knew it was so utterly impossible but he pictured how they could’ve met (maybe she could’ve been studying a second degree abroad and they wound up in the same dorm building) and could’ve been _those_ best friends — the inseparable ones that everyone except them could tell they were so totally in love with each other. Maybe then they could’ve lasted.

Just as Harry had his last spoonful halfway to his mouth he heard a familiar click, a smile creeping on his face as he looked up to see Taylor with her camera in her hands. She must’ve taken it out while he was getting their breakfast/lunch/whatever-you-wanted-to-call-it sorted. “That one’s gonna be really good,” he laughed as she tucked the Polaroid under the blanket to develop in the dark.

“One for the wall,” she agreed with a smile, and once he’d finished his mouthful Harry reached over and took the camera from her hands. “Hey!”

“Smile!” he said in that cheesy school photographer tone, but Taylor stuck her tongue out at him instead, laughing as the photo printed and he tucked it with the other.

“I don’t think I want to see that one.”

“You’re gorgeous,” Harry smiled easily, handing back the camera and trying not to think too much about how her cheeks turned pink at the compliment. “C'mon, let’s get dressed and go for a walk, yeah?”

Staying true to their no peeking rule, they changed and packed their valuables and some snacks in a small bag to take with them. It took Taylor a bit longer to get ready, since she insisted that she had to wear _some_ make up. Harry didn’t see her reasoning considering they were out where no one was going to judge them, but he held the mirror for her all the same.

The two set off for the toilet block first, since they’d both resorted to using nature at some point and Taylor refused to do it ever again. (“You’re not walking all that way all the time, especially not in the dark.” “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one with pee running down your leg!”) They checked the hot water situation in the showers (both dismal) and then they were officially on their way.

“Maybe, since the water’s so disappointing, we should shower together so it’ll be less painful,” Harry suggested hopefully as they headed back towards their camp. He’d noticed a track going off from their spot and they figured it was probably smart to leave from their central point to avoid getting _really_ lost. Directions weren’t always either of their strong points, ironically.

“Yeah, and afterward, we can braid each other’s hair and plan world domination after a nice fuck against a tree,” came Taylor’s enthusiastic sarcastic reply. A small smirk on her lips, she skipped ahead and turned to snap a photo of him. Sticking his middle finger up at her for her response to his honestly just really thirsty proposition, Harry couldn’t help but smile as she giggled and slipped the Polaroid into the back pocket of her shorts. Short shorts, he noted. Not that he’d been staring or anything. Nope. Of course not.

“Your sarcasm hurts, Taylor.”

“What’s to say I was being sarcastic?” she challenged. “I _want_ to have matching braids as king and queen.”

“And the sex against the tree?”

“A tree wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Harry was convinced by the end of this trip his heart wouldn’t be beating anymore, what with all this skipping it was doing. Fuck Taylor and her casual remarks and gentle touches. (On the upside, at least if he needed CPR he’d sort of be getting a kiss.)

“So that’s a yes to the sex?” he clarified, just to be sure he had heard correctly. 

Rolling her eyes, Taylor fell back into step with him. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“My hair’s changed,” he pointed out, which made her laugh. Harry had always loved that sound.

“But you’re still the same Harry who went to _all_ that trouble to cover your bandanna in glitter because you thought that would make your idea more appealing to me.” This time she couldn’t play down her smirk and Harry had a hard time not pulling her into a hard kiss right there, oh fuck.

“Do you remember what you said to me?” she asked, not bothering to wait for him to answer. “ _’Babe, I want to try something different. We don’t have to, but it’s got glitter so I think you’ll like it.’_ “

Harry laughed at her attempt to mimic his voice, not nearly as low or as British. “I don’t think it was quite like that,” he defended with a grin.

“It definitely was,” she nodded wisely. “You were all _, ‘Hey Taylor, I got you a present,’_ and I thought I was gonna unwrap something cute. But _nooooooo,_ you just wanted to act out your life long fantasy.”

“My life long fantasy?”

“Don’t think I wasn’t onto you, Styles,” Taylor wiggled her finger accusingly at him. “I know you’d been thinking about it a lot longer than you let on.”

She laughed and he smiled back at her, but there was no lie in her joke. Harry’s terrible fantasy of tying the undeniably attractive Taylor Swift’s arms above her head and kissing every inch of her body and fucking her with as much intensity as he could muster up was something he’d been lucky enough to make true. He’d convinced a twinkly-eyed Taylor whose confidence in the bedroom was ever-growing that it would be fun, and even when she admitted she was nervous and he told her to speak up if she wanted to stop, the only things to come out of her mouth were a string of encouragements and desperate gasps and whines. He’d left her with bruises all over her skin and sparkly rings on her wrists and had gotten her hooked on adventure.

Harry (sort of) hoped she hadn’t figured out that his fantasy had transitioned to having her dress up and tie _him_ down. Or what he did with that fantasy. Ahem.

They continued walking along with Taylor still skipping ahead every now and then, this time to try and spot the wildlife. So far they’d only seen a few birds and insects flying about, but she was determined to find something else. The most exciting thing they saw on this trip was not going to be the giant glinting web crafted between two trees by a spider who, judging by the size of its body, ate every freaking thing it saw with any one of its eight eyes.

“That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Taylor cringed again only a minute after her dramatic scream and flailing of arms at the admittedly very hideous sight that wasn’t even in their way. “Well, apart from _you_ , of course,” she added cheekily, jumping ahead and laughing loudly as she avoided his hand going for a friendly shove.

“I am miles better than a spider,” he grinned at the back of her blonde head.

“Nuh uh,” she sang, skipping forward and spinning around so she was facing him. “You know what’s, like, the best thing?”

Harry shook his head, unable to keep the smile off his face as she bounced in front of him in awkward surely-going-to-end-in-disaster backwards steps.

“You,” Taylor answered herself, eyes widening as she tried to backtrack her words like her steps. “I mean being friends with you. That we can still make fun of each other and it’s okay. It means a lot to me.”

“It means a lot to me, too.”

It had taken a while to get to this point again. If Harry had suggested this trip months ago, she would’ve blocked his number like _watch out for the crazy person_. (Okay, so probably not, but she definitely would’ve called him insane, and not in the friendly way.) But _somehow_ he had managed to get back in Taylor’s good graces, and to hear that that was something special to her had his hopeful little heart sending a spurt of joy through his veins.

Harry noticed her hesitate for a moment, her thinking face indicating more than just her focus on her walking. For a horrible moment he thought she was going to take back what she said, but then she was extending her hand out to him and he was so taken by surprise he almost forgot to step forward and take it.

“So, there’s some stuff I want to show you later,” Taylor told him as she turned to walk properly by his side.

“What stuff?”

“Some songs I want to run by you.”

She looked at him with a hint of mystery in her eyes, and Harry smiled at her in intrigue. That wasn’t what he had been expecting.

“I’d love that.”

And just like that, they were walking hand in hand like it wasn’t the first time they’d properly done it over a year. They walked in silence mostly, just enjoying the natural peacefulness of the outdoors. One of them would point out something here and there, the other complaining that their pointing skills sucked and they couldn’t see anything. (Okay, it only really happened once when Harry _thought_ he saw an owl asleep on a branch and it turned out to be just a weird bit of bark and Taylor refused to let him forget it.) It was nice. Really fucking nice, actually.

When Taylor eventually did let go, Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. That was until he realised she was reaching for her camera around her neck, then he grinned as he leaned in close for the photo. “Lucky I bought more packets of film the other day,” she smiled as she slipped it in her pocket with the one from before. “I really want to remember this.”

“Me too,” he nodded, slipping his bag off his back as he got an idea. She watched him curiously as he moved to one of the closest trees and threw his arms around it just for another picture. Taylor laughed and with the click of the camera Harry wrapped his leg around the tree trunk and looked at her with a pout. His attempt to look seductive just looked ridiculous — for a start he had entangled himself around a _tree_ , and his shorts and Nikes didn’t really fit the part. Unless he was going for shady jogger who was going to creep on you with his sunglasses on and whip you with his bandanna as you ran past — then he was on point.

“Do you think I could climb this tree?” he asked, which was really a pointless question since as she said “Harry no” he just took it as “Harry yes.” It wasn’t the _worst_ tree for the job, but it wasn’t perfect. It had some lower branches and it was fairly easy to grip on to the bark. The only thing was that the third branch he grabbed on to wasn’t strong enough to support him and bent slightly as soon as he shifted some of his weight onto it. Quickly losing his balance, Harry came falling down in the dirt with scraped hands and a bruised ego as he turned to see Taylor doubled over in laughter and her phone suddenly in her hand.

“You filmed that didn’t you?” he guessed wryly.

“Yes, oh my god!”

Wonderful. Now he could watch it over and over again and show all his friends. Who wouldn’t want that?

Picking himself up and dusting himself off, they carried on ahead with Taylor promising she wouldn’t show anyone the video. (“You say that now, but you will.” “Just trust me!”) They stopped every now and then to look at something or take another photo, until they found a shaded spot to have a break a bit further along. Crunching away on some apples — Harry had brought a heap of fruit with them to make up for all the unhealthy choices — they sat side by side for a while, nudging each other occasionally and grinning like they were little kids with crushes on each other. Which, y'know, wasn’t exactly far from the truth.

Taylor stood up with a squeal after Harry not very fairly poked her side, raising her arms above her head as she took the opportunity to stretch. The view Harry had from the ground was an even payback though, he thought. Her lean legs looking even longer as she stood on her tiptoes, he couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing up and lingering on those fucking shorts. He was sure she knew too — as she brought her arms back down she looked at him with this _look_ , this not quite smirk that was more of just a sweet smile with something about it screaming _“I remember.”_

“Do you wanna see something cool?” she asked, which honestly, who was going to say no to that? “Give me a minute,” she told him, taking her phone back out her pocket and tossing it at him after he nodded probably a little too eagerly. He was about to give a sassy remark about having to wait until she started to do some proper stretches in front of him. He’d never taken her as a very athletic person, so even seeing her turn around in the tent earlier in shorts and a tank top paired with joggers had taken him by surprise. She seemed to know what she was doing as she got down on the ground and stretched her legs and Harry just had to look at anything but that holy shit.

“Okay, I’m not _quite_ there yet, _buuuuut…_ ” Taylor grinned as she lifted herself up off the ground only to sink back down into the splits. She was almost touching the floor and she just looked so proud of herself it was adorable. It was also fucking hot apparently since he felt his dick twitch oh fuck _Taylor_.

“Wow,” was all he managed to say with wide eyes as he tried to push away his impure thoughts.

“I could never do that before,” she said as she got back up and brushed the dirt off herself. “I’ve been doing all these dance classes for this music video—”

“No kidding.”

Taylor laughed at his interjection, giving a slight shrug as she continued, “It’s going to be super intense and I’ve done so much running — oh my god I _hate_ running. It’s gonna be worth it though.”

“Can I ask what it’s about?”

She seemed to consider it for a moment, and Harry wasn’t really sure she was going to let him in on it. After all, she was going to show him some things she’d been working on later, and knowing her she’d want to leave some surprises. But then Taylor was stepping forward and resting her hands on his knees as she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Shake. It. Off.” Then came some ridiculous dance moves that he figured must’ve been in time to the beat going on in her head and all he could do was laugh.

“I look forward to it,” he said genuinely, grinning as she started spinning around on the spot.

“It’s going to be so much fun, oh my god. Promise you’ll buy it on iTunes?”

“I’ll even send you flowers.”

“You’re too kind,” she gushed as she tried to stop spinning and give him a bow, but ended up stumbling forward not at all gracefully.

“You might want to practise that,” he teased, to which Taylor stuck her tongue out at him and skipped off down the track. A mix of messy twirls and awkward leaps, Harry shook his head as she disappeared out of his view. She really was something special, that one.

A moment or so later Harry heard a small scream and he could pretty much guess what had happened. Getting up and following her path, he heard an “I’m okay” from the blonde tumbled up on the ground.

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly as she shifted herself so she was sitting upright. As soon as he saw the streak of red on her knee he was at her side.

“I’m fine, honestly,” Taylor assured him when he knelt down beside her with a worried expression. “I just tripped; no big deal.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s not much.”

Harry glanced at the trickle of blood running down her leg and looked back at her with raised eyebrows, but she just shrugged slightly. “I’ll be right back,” he told her, jogging off before she could protest and returning with his bag. He got her to straighten her leg despite her several “I’m fine Harry”s and, pulling out a water bottle, she gasped as he poured some of the contents over her knee.

“It stings,” she frowned while Harry leaned in to get a better look at what she’d done.

“Fucking hell Taylor, what did you land on?”

She mumbled an “I don’t know” as a small pool of blood returned to the cut. It wasn’t _too_ deep, probably just from a sharp rock, but it was more than just a grazed knee. Without a second thought, Harry pulled the bandana off his head, lifted her leg up and tied it around her as a makeshift bandage. She gave a whine when he pulled it tight to try to stop the blood flow, but at least she kept quiet until he told her he had a first aid kit in his car and to “get on.”

“Harry, you can’t carry me back. I’m too heavy and it’s not _that_ bad.”

“You’re like a twig now c'mon, I can piggyback you back to camp.”

Taylor eventually gave in when he wouldn’t let it go, the persistent one he was. Taking her camera back out and putting it around his neck, she slung his bag on her back after he helped her stand up. With her hands on his shoulders, Harry lifted her up and she clung onto him as soon as she was off the ground. “Are you sure you can do this?” she checked as he started walking carefully.

“You think I’m not strong enough?”

“I think I’m heavier than I look.”

“Well you’re not,” he said firmly. “And even if you were, I could still carry you the whole way.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she leaned forward and spoke in his ear, “Your modesty is inspiring, Styles.”

“I didn’t even mention the part where I’ve been working out.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Her hand briefly brushed down his arm before returning around his neck and okay, Taylor knew _exactly_ what she was doing. She knew when she’d let him cuddle her, she knew when she’d done the splits for him, and she knew now when she pressed her chest against his back as she spoke in his ear. She knew how he still felt about her and Harry didn’t think it was fucking fair that she could go around teasing him when he didn’t know what she was thinking in return.

Even so, Harry carried her along like the lovesick puppy he was because even if it kind of pissed him off he fell for it every time.

The trip back seemed longer, but that was probably because he was carrying a whole extra person on his back. Harry never complained though, not when he had Taylor chatting away and reaching for the camera around his neck to snap some more pictures every now and then. When they made it back to their camp, he left her while he went back to his car to grab the first aid kit. It probably wasn’t necessary, as she had insisted the whole time, but he couldn’t help the part of him that just wanted to take care of her.

“Did you _run_ back here?” Taylor frowned in disbelief as he returned with the box in his hands.

Harry shook his head and sat down beside her, pushing his hair back off his face. He’d _jogged_ — there was a difference. Untying the bandana from her leg, he poured some more water on it and carefully washed the drying blood from her knee. Taylor sat back quietly as she just watched, a sharp gasp parting her lips as he dabbed some antiseptic cream over the cut. “’s just so it doesn’t get infected, okay?” he explained soothingly. “You don’t want any dirt and stuff making it worse.”

“Thank you, Doctor Styles,” she smiled teasingly once he’d fixed a bandage on, and he laughed as he put everything back in the kit.

“Now, I don’t have a lollipop I can give you, but I can offer you a hug for being such a good patient,” Harry grinned, wrapping his arms around her as she threw hers around his neck and giggled.

“Do you hug all your patients?”

“Only the dorky ones who trip over while trying to dance,” he teased, and she playfully poked her tongue out at him. “Can I braid your hair now?”

“Only if I can do yours.”

“Deal.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Three things Taylor learned that night:

1\. Boys can’t braid hair.

2\. Boys don’t care what’s in their sandwich.

3\. Boys can always be cracked.

Harry’s attempt at braiding her hair wasn’t as terrible as she thought it was going to be. It showed promise, at least. After showing him a simple one first, Taylor had ended up with a collection of not very straight or even braids around her head. Running low on hair ties, he’d bobby pinned three together at the back of her head in a kind of pretzel shape that she’d just laughed at once the Polaroid developed. It was… different?

Harry on the other hand had received a quite impressive short fishtail braid, stray curls falling out at the front like every girl’s dream. He looked too pretty, really. It felt a bit weird to him, too, and he kept patting the back of his head despite her telling him to leave it alone every time.

When it came to dinner, Harry hadn’t planned anything special. He made a tuna sandwich and started throwing in random other things they had — a few slices of tomato, some lettuce, a slice of cheese, a mushroom, a squirt of mustard — and that’s when Taylor decided she was going to make her own. Not that she thought it sounded completely unappealing — she just saw the way he eyed a banana like he was seriously considering adding that too and that had made her decision for her. They watched the light fade into night as they sat around eating and talking, the lanterns dotted around them so they could still see once the sun had set.

They’d also discovered the difficulty of building a fire. Collecting some wood after they had finished doing each other’s hair, they’d had trouble getting it started, even though they had an actual lighter instead of just trying to rub some sticks together like serious wilderness people probably still did. It was another failed attempt at looking manly on Harry’s part, really. Honestly, why had he asked her to come if he couldn’t impress her with some basic camping skills?

Once Harry had figured out how to keep the fire alight (hint: arrange your sticks in a proper pile and throw some scrunched up paper on it) they roasted some marshmallows on sticks. Well, they _tried._ Too often they ended up with them charred, or in Harry’s special case _on fire_ , because they were too busy laughing about something the other had said. But where’s the fun in perfection, anyway?

They stayed outside shoving roasted goo into their mouths until Taylor said the magic words — “So, do you wanna hear the album now?” Then Harry put out the fire with much more efficiency than he’d started it with and practically dragged her inside the tent in eagerness.

“Okay, I don’t really let many people hear stuff until it’s released, so put your hand on your heart and repeat after me.” Taylor looked at him seriously with her hand on her chest and he easily obliged, trying hard not to grin. “I, Harry Styles,” she started.

“I, Harry Styles,” he repeated.

“Promise not to tell anyone what I’m about to hear.”

“Promise not to tell anyone what I’m about to hear.”

“Swear on my life not to give anyone even the slightest hint of anything I’m about to hear.”

“Swear on my life not to give anyone even the slightest hint of anything I’m about to hear.”

“And to give Taylor honest feedback.”

“You know I’d—” Harry cut himself off when she looked at him pointedly, and he repeated her statement obediently like the rest.

“Great!” Taylor smiled brightly and reached for her phone. Unplugging it from the portable charger she’d been using, she had to take a moment to untangle her headphones, which only seemed to heighten Harry’s anticipation. From what she had been telling him over the past few months he knew she was switching up her sound, and even with the taste of it on her last record he had no idea what to expect. Nobody did anything like Taylor did.

Eventually she sorted herself out and with one headphone each they got themselves comfortable on top of the blankets. Taylor hesitated as he lay on his side, head propped up by his hand, and she gave a small sigh when he looked at her expectantly. “I’ve never played anything for the person they’re about… Not ones like these,” she explained, biting down on her bottom lip slightly.

“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to,” he said, even though he really wanted her to. He really, _really_ wanted her to.

She shook her head. “You’re going to listen to it when it comes out anyway. I just… don’t know how you’re going to react. Or if I want to watch.”

“You’re not sitting outside while I stay in here and listen. Just press play and shut your eyes, if you’re that worried,” he reasoned. He understood her apprehension, but if they were going to do this, they might as well do it properly.

“Fine. This one’s the first track,” she said, and with a tap of her thumb it started playing. She kept her eyes open and trained on her phone as she let him listen, his fingers tapping on the blankets when he picked up the beat. She smiled a bit when she noticed that.

“I like the “boys and boys and girls and girls” line,“ Harry told her once Welcome To New York finished and she pressed pause for his reaction. 

Taylor nodded, “I thought you’d like that.”

“It’s really good. Great opener. Like, a new chapter.”

“Interesting.” She gave a smile. “This one I wrote as a joke and… yeah.”

As the next song started, Harry couldn’t help his grin. It was a narrative, a piece of fiction about the boy-obsessed girl the media had always tried to pin her as. Just from one listen he knew Blank Space was going to be a hit.

“Make it a single,” was the first thing he told her.

“You haven’t even heard the rest yet.”

“And I’m telling you to make it a single. It’s brilliant. It’s like a massive “fuck you” to everyone who tried to take you down.”

"You think so?”

“Definitely. And I wouldn’t tell anyone you’re insane, by the way,” he added, and she rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t worried about that, but thank you.”

So far Harry hadn’t seen the blindingly obvious reason for why she had seemed nervous, but as they kicked into the next track he understood completely.

“Style, eh?” he mused. “I thought you never named names.”

“I said Style, not Style _s_ ,” she corrected with a sly smile.

“You’re not even sorry.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“I love it.”

The only warning he got for the next was that it was one of her favourites, and it quickly became one of his. She’d explained that she had wanted her songs to sound like the emotions she was feeling at the time, and honestly she’d nailed this one exactly. It was like one big flashback — taking that Polaroid on the couch, giving her his necklace, the night they danced, the skiing accident, the goodbye. Harry remembered all of it and goddammit yes when the sun had come up he was looking at her and he still was. He always was.

“We’re literally in the woods now,” he commented on the coincidence.

“Funny how things turn out, huh?” she smiled softly.

“The sound was perfect for it. Really, it… It feels like us.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you have to mention that I cried?” he joked, smiling to let her know he didn’t seriously mind. It had fucking hurt worse than anything he’d felt before and he’d realised that he quite possibly could’ve killed them with his ski mobile driving gone wrong, and that alone had been enough to make him start crying. That had started her, and by the time they’d gotten help they were sore sobbing messes. Not something you could ever forget, even if you wanted to.

Taylor reached her hand over to rub his thigh affectionately. “Babe, you split your chin open, you were allowed to cry.”

“I’m still really sorry about all that…”

“It wasn’t your fault. And we’re fine now, so it’s okay.”

Harry nodded, though he was sure he would always feel guilty about what happened. At least the start of the next song was something to set the thought back in its spot in the back of his mind, but even then he was left with a lingering sense of longing.

“’s good,” was all he said once All You Had To Do Was Stay was over. He couldn’t get the line, “People like me are gone forever when you say goodbye,” out of his head and he prayed that it wasn’t directed at him. For all his commitment issues, the fact that they were sitting here right here now had to mean something.

Harry recognised the track that followed as the one she had been talking about before the dancing/sore knee incident. Even now Taylor was bopping her head from side to side, and he was sure she would be doing it more enthusiastically if it weren’t for the headphone chord connecting them together. If he weren’t lying down, he would be too.

“A really catchy “I don’t give a fuck about you,”“ he declared, grinning as she laughed again. “Quick question: do _I_ have the hella good hair?”

“You might,” she winked teasingly before moving on to the next song. He recognised it too, just for a different reason.

“When did you write that?” he asked curiously.

“When you’re thinking I wrote that,” she replied simply, barely giving him a chance to process this song telling him she wished he would come back which she had written after he had admitted to almost turning down her driveway instead of his own. She quickly moved on again with a warning, “This isn’t about you, so don’t worry.”

It was a relief to know she hadn’t penned Bad Blood about him, though he decided to keep his curiosity to himself. Instead he opted for a compliment, “The “band-aids don’t fix bullet holes” line is really good. How do you always manage to write these perfect bridges?”

Taylor shrugged slightly, the smile on her face letting him know she appreciated his words. “I think you’ll like this next one,” she told him, and her guess was right on point.

Harry let his eyes close as he let himself get lost in the different, kind of softer sound. The truth of it hit him immediately. Insisting she’d come out of the city with him again, looking at her with the same spark in his eyes. They were still so full of uncertainty but one thing was true — Harry had never forgotten Taylor. He had never forgotten what it was like to be with her and he always regretted letting her go. His wildest dreams were a collection of real and fantasized moments with her — getting back together; spending a day at the beach; taking her back to see his parents; spending Christmas with her; cooking her dinner; going to an award show with her; singing with her; sleeping with her; getting fucking married and having kids with her. Everything went back to her and to be honest that kind of terrified him.

Of course he couldn’t tell her any of this, only give her that wonderstruck (heh) smile and say, “Your vocals are incredible. Was that a heartbeat in the background?”

“Mine,” she answered softly, hand coming up to rest over her chest. He would never know how she came up with these ideas.

After she played him the next song, Harry jokingly asked if she had any paper so he could write down the steps on How You Get The Girl. She laughed at his request, and he wondered if she knew he had already made the mental list.

“I love it,” he told her after the following, trying not to think too hard about her use of the word. “I like that you’ve got some, like, dancier tracks and ones like that. It’s a nice mix.”

“But you think it’s sonically cohesive, right?” she checked, looking relieved when he nodded. “I just want it to be different from Red, y'know?”

“Red was a masterpiece,” he reminded her, and she only smiled her thank you before pressing play on the next song.

From the first tape recorder click to the last, Harry considered her foxes and hunters analogy. It _felt_ like that — it felt like they were constantly having to find private places they could escape to, and even then there was always someone just around the corner trying to catch them. This wasn’t just a song for her fans to enjoy; anyone in the spotlight would be able to relate to it. Another song she’d nailed.

“I’d never thought about it like that,” he admitted. “It’s really like that, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately,” she sighed. “What do you think of the tape recorder thing?”

“Makes it sound like we got caught,” he answered, not noticing the way she looked at him when he said “we.” “’s like someone’s found it on you and they’re listening to it. I like it.”

“Okay. This is the last one.”

Taylor finished the story with Clean. It was the perfect ending, the song causing a catch in Harry’s throat. He’d always known the last few years had been unfairly hard on her, that she hadn’t been treated the way she deserved to be. He’d always felt guilty for that, as if he were wholly responsible for the criticism and cruel jokes made at her expense. He could tell she was so much happier now, so much stronger and more independent, and he couldn’t help thinking _what if I ruin that?_ He couldn’t do that to her again, and from what he’d heard tonight he didn’t think she would let him.

When the sound coming through the ear bud ceased and Harry managed to find his voice, all he could say was, “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. She took her headphones back and put her phone on the opposite side of her, understandably trying not to give him too much time to deliberate over everything. She lay down on her side, conspiratorially close to him. All it would take was a tilt of their heads and the distance would be gone.

“Your vocals are amazing,” he complimented, daring to rest his hand on her waist. “You’ve got such a wonderful voice.”

She smiled at him fondly. “This is my favourite record,” Taylor decided while she moved her own hand up to stroke the top of his braided back hair. “I’m glad you like it.”

“You wouldn’t change it even if I didn’t,” he pointed out, and she grinned.

“Not when it sounds this good.”

They laughed and Harry was distracted by the way she started playing with the stray baby curls falling on the side of his face. Simple intimacy, Harry longed for the last time he could remember her playing with his hair like this. It was late morning and they were still tangled up under the sheets, talking and giggling with their bare bodies intertwined. It was one of the easy days where it wasn’t an effort to be a couple. No worrying about who didn’t agree or who was betting on their downfall; they only had each other that day, and it was those that Harry missed the most.

But he needn’t miss too much, since as long as they were out here, every day was a Harry & Taylor day.

“I’m really excited about all this,” she continued, the glint in her eyes making it more obvious. “I’ve got all these ideas that are gonna be really fun. I really want to connect with people.”

“I really want to connect too,” he said without thinking, darting his eyes back up from her lips to her face. Taylor giggled and bumped her bandaged knee against his as she moved her leg.

“How would you do that?” she asked, the teasing tone of her voice bringing him back to her indirect challenges of the past.

 

_“Maybe we should get up for breakfast now.”_

_“Do you need to get_ up _?”_

_“’m just gonna take a shower, love.”_

_“Wouldn’t it be better to wait until the morning?”_

_“I really think I sprained my wrist over that fucking chair. Look at it; hurts like a bitch.”_

_“Do we need to strap you up, babe?”_

 

Taylor was never overtly sexual in her remarks, her suggestive comments coming through subtly; if you didn’t know her, you might miss it. Teamed with her playful smile, Taylor’s teasing always got to him in a way that no one else’s had.

Which was exactly why he gave in so fucking easily and threw caution to the wind.

With his hand sliding down to rest on the small of her back, Harry tilted his head and kissed her. Harry kissed her lips for the first time in a whole year and he thought this whole thing might actually be a dream because she actually kissed him back when he’d spent so long convincing himself that she would reject him if he ever tried. It was short and soft and left them both smiling shyly at each other when they broke away as if it were their very first.

As if she knew he was about to apologise when he opened his mouth, Taylor leaned in for another, more intense as she pulled herself closer and held onto him for longer. Harry melted at her familiar taste and feel of her lips pressed to his. As much as he thought he could recall the way she kissed, nothing he had spent all this time imagining compared to the real thing. His stomach never fluttered like it was doing now over a recollection in his head. Only real life Taylor could give him that gooey heart eyes feeling that always seemed so cheesy and unrealistic until he’d felt it for himself. Then it had felt like the best thing in the world — it still did.

When Taylor eventually pulled back, it was only slightly, just enough for her to speak. Her words took him by surprise: “You took your sweet time.”

“It’s been a day.”

“And it’s been a year.”

Her sentence settled between them for only a moment before they caved and leaned in once more. Harry no longer doubted that he had been the only one wishing for this moment. She wouldn’t kiss him the way she was, like she was trying to tell him how much she’d missed him just as much as he was trying to do the same, if she didn’t feel it too. He might’ve asked if he weren’t so caught up in this unbelievable re-acquaintance.

Harry’s brain was kind of a fond puddle by the time she pulled back again and smiled at him breathlessly. Her voice was gentle as she said, “We already broke all of Karlie’s rules.”

Fond puddle brain took a moment to comprehend what she meant, but when it clicked Harry gave a small laugh, “I’m sor—”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” she grinned.

“I wasn’t really sorry anyway,” he admitted, cheeky smile earning him a playful tap on the arm. Harry chased her lips curved in a smile.

If there was one thing Harry learnt that night, it was that life was too damn short not to kiss the girl he was hopelessly in love with.


	3. Chapter 3

When Harry woke up the next morning, it was from a good dream. A fucking great dream, actually. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a dream like that, but it was the first he’d woken up with Taylor actually beside him. It was also the first time he was wearing clothes and he couldn’t get himself off like his body was aching for him to, but let’s not get into that. (Harry knew what he wanted to get into holy shit)

Fumbling around for his phone, he groaned as he turned his head to the side. Right. The braid. While Taylor had undone hers before bed, Harry hadn’t wanted to take out the cute one she’d given him, and the hair tie sat right on his neck. Making a mental note not to pick pretty next time, Harry jumped when he felt a hand on his arm as his own grasped the shiny finish of his iPhone. “Scared the shit out of me, Taylor,” he muttered as he turned back on his side to face her. He didn’t exactly want to, but lying on his back wasn’t really an option right now. They hadn’t gotten _that_ far last night.

“Sorry,” Taylor smiled gently as their eyes met. “Should’ve said something first.”

“Did you have a good sleep?”

She nodded in response before picking her own phone up from the blanket. “Are you getting any service? My phone is being shit.”

Raising his eyebrows slightly, Harry went to run his fingers through his hair before he remembered it was still tied back _ugh_. “How long have you been awake?”

“Enough to be hungry and to be annoyed at my phone for not doing what I want it to.” Taylor laughed at herself, wriggling over and turning on her side to match him. He noticed her eyes flicker down as she put her arm around him and he tried to keep his expression regular. “What are the plans for today?” she asked normally. There was no way she hadn’t noticed how hard he was right now but at least they weren’t going to talk about it. Thank god.

“More exploring?” he said, shrugging his shoulder slightly. “There’s some tracks going the other way we could go take a look at.”

Taylor smiled, to his relief. Despite having the idea for a while, he hadn’t actually come up with a whole list of activities for them to do. Unless you counted making out in different places at various intervals, which Harry sure as hell did now.

“Sure. We’ll definitely need that shower after, though,” she teased, poking him in the chest and pulling away, which wasn’t really fair. Was she taking back her sarcastic stance from the day before or was she just relishing in the vulnerable state Harry was in?

Climbing out from under the blankets, Taylor crawled over him to the supplies. He heard her rummaging around and pouring some cereal into bowls, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. It had been so long and the Coco Pops were far from the breakfasts she used to make for him when he slept in, but it felt so familiar and comfortable to him.

Harry thanked her as she placed a bowl beside him and sat on top of the blankets. She’d put her glasses on, which she unnecessarily pushed up her nose as she seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Do you… Did you want me to give you a couple of minutes…?”

Okay, maybe he’d been wrong.

“Um, no, it’s okay,” he mumbled, though if he was honest he wanted to say yes, just not to a couple of minutes alone.

A small smile crept up on her lips as they fell into silence — well, silence plus the crunching of Coco Pops — and when he questioned her Taylor shrugged a little. “It’s just kind of funny. Wildest Dreams and then…” She bit her lip lightly as Harry looked down awkwardly. “You were kind of mumbling in your sleep… No, Harry—” she sighed as he buried his face in his pillow, and he heard her shuffle over to rest her hand on his leg. “Harry, look at me.” He knew she was rolling her eyes when he didn’t respond, but he hadn’t been aware Taylor was going to lean in and say, “I kind of liked it,” in his ear _fuck._

“Taylor…” he murmured, eventually turning his head back and meeting her eyes again.

“C'mon, eat your breakfast,” she said, her sudden bubbly tone breaking him out of his little embarrassed zone. She smiled at him as she returned to her own bowl, and after spooning some of the cereal into her mouth she added, “It’s weird when you’re shy.“

“’m not being shy,” he argued as he propped himself up enough to eat without spilling it everywhere or choking to death.

“Then give me a proper recount of your dream.” Harry froze at her request, and Taylor let out a laugh, “I’m not serious! God, don’t look so terrified.”

“’m not terrified.”

_“Mhmm.”_

“It’s too early for this.”

“We’re camping, Harry. The sun is awake, so we’re awake!” Taylor threw her arms up excitedly, and Harry couldn’t help but catch the way her top rode up to show a bit of her stomach.

“What the fuck did you put in these Coco Pops?” he laughed.

Taylor’s expression turned to a frown as she mimed flicking a spoonful of cereal in his direction. “Y'know, I was just trying to be nice to you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I know. You know I’m not my sunshiny-est in the morning,” he reminded her.

“You can say that again.”

They smiled at each other and Harry was so glad not a lot had changed between them. Well, kind of.

“The ice isn’t feeling so icy, by the way,” she added, which kind of dulled his I’m-so-happy-we’re-best-friends-even-though-I-love-you-more-than-that vibe.

“There was a stop just up the road, yeah? I’ll go grab some more, if you want to wait here.”

“Some time to myself? I’d love that,” Taylor grinned teasingly, and Harry just shook his head with a laugh. What had he done without her?

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Once they eventually finished breakfast and Harry got ready, he left Taylor with their things and set off. He’d known from the start they would have to restock some of their supplies at some point, but now that he had to he didn’t really want to. It just seemed like an extra risk of getting caught; they’d been lucky not to bump into anyone else at the campsite so far and there was no way he could avoid it now. He just prayed it wouldn’t blow up into anything more.

When Harry arrived at the service station ten minutes later, he was relieved to see it was practically a ghost town. An old pickup truck stopped at one of the pumps, he figured he was safe. Thankfully.

It was a bit of a different story once he parked and got inside, though. Harry heard a gasp from the counter across the store that sure wasn’t initiated by the tragic midday TV drama playing on the monitor in the corner. He did his best to ignore it as he started browsing the aisles, picking up some things here and there. Another packet of Doritos, some more marshmallows, two packets of gummy bears, the biggest bag of M&M’s, two cinnamon donuts, a packet of gum — really he should’ve gotten himself a basket or something. He was destined to drop something when he went to grab the ice.

As he headed over to the freezers while trying to balance everything in his hands, he heard a “Hey” from behind him. Harry looked over his shoulder to see an older man, probably in his late 40’s, who had just come out of the bathroom. He was scruffy looking, with messy hair and a beard growing in with streaks of grey, plus loose jeans and a plaid shirt with a pen sticking out of the breast pocket. Yep, definitely the guy from the truck.

“You’re from that band, eh? My baby girl’s got you all over her walls.”

“Yeah. That’s, um, that’s very nice of her,” Harry said, for lack of a better answer. At least he hadn’t been greeted by some hysterical screaming like usual.

The man eyed him up and down, and Harry shifted a little uncomfortably on his feet. They were about the same height, but with the bigger build of the older guy Harry felt a little intimidated carrying a bundle of treats.

“What brings you out here?” he asked, voice inquisitive. “Haven’t seen any famous faces here before.”

“Just taking a break,” Harry replied slowly.

“You got a lot of stuff there. Got the others with you?”

“Ah, no. Some other friends.”

The man nodded and didn’t question him, to his relief.

“Now, I’m not that much of a fan myself, but my girl’s _always_ going on about you lot and she’d never speak to me again if she knew I’d met you and hadn’t gotten your autograph,” he explained, a friendly smile forming on his face. “Would you mind?”

“Course not. You got a pen?”

“Becca! Get this young man a pen,” he yelled over his shoulder, and Harry’s gaze shifted to the girl standing at the register. He saw her shake her head as she moved along the counter, and the two of them walked over to meet her. “You’re a fan aren’t you, Bec?” he asked, leaning against the counter as Harry carefully placed his stuff down.

The girl nodded slightly, only briefly looking at Harry as she slid a notepad and pen across the table. “Did you want me to start ringing these up?” she asked. 

“Um, I’m gonna grab a couple more things,” he answered vaguely. “Who am I making this out to?”

“Jess,” the man said proudly, and Harry scrawled a thank you message on a sheet of paper before asking what her favourite lolly was. He dashed over to the aisles and returned a moment later with four packets of Skittles.

“Tell Jess not to eat them all at once,” he smiled as he dropped them on the counter. He grabbed another packet of gum and added, “And that this one’s the best.”

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s cool. Is there anything else she’d like?”

Plaid shirt shook his head, letting out a laugh. “Well shit, you’re a proper gentleman aren’t you? No wonder you’ve got girls fallin’ at your feet.” Harry was about to disagree when he remembered one time a girl literally tripped over in front of him, which wasn’t exactly the same thing but the man was already speaking again anyway. “This one likes Snickers,” he grinned, nodding at Becca behind the counter whose cheeks darkened.

Once the Skittles and gum were added to Harry’s total, he thanked the man and wished him a safe journey home, watching as he left looking cheery and got back into his truck. Looking back at the girl, he smiled, “He comes here often?”

“He does a lot of travelling between the town up the road and the city. We’re his stop in the middle.”

“You’re here by yourself a lot?”

“Lonely, right?” she grimaced, and he thought he caught a brief hint of sadness in it. “It’s as bad as it sounds. It’s kinda fun seeing all these different people come in, and, y'know, there’s always the radio to listen to.”

“And the TV to watch.”

“Fuck no; there’s never anything good on.”

“So change the channel.”

“I kind of broke the remote when I dropped it in the freezer,” she confessed, and the pair of them tried not to laugh. He wasn’t going to ask about that.

“’m gonna grab the rest,” he told her, quickly going over for a bag of ice and doing one last scan of the aisles. He forced himself not to pick up any more chocolate, as tempting as it was, and instead looked for something a bit healthier. “You got anything good for lunch?”

“Um, not really. Unless you want sandwiches,” Becca replied from the counter, and when Harry looked up he saw her coming out through a door to the main floor. “If you get some plain Doritos, you can get some salsa dip to go with them. We have that.”

She grabbed a packet and searched for the jar of dip, and as Harry went around and joined her on that side he accidentally knocked the edge of the shelf with the bag of ice in his arms, sending some boxes tumbling to the floor. “’m sorry,” he apologised immediately. He set the bag on the floor as Becca insisted it was fine and he reached to pick up the boxes, hearing a stifled laugh beside him.

“Want one of those too?”

It was a joke — he could tell in her voice she hadn’t been serious — but as Harry picked up the boxes of condoms and returned them to the shelf he actually considered it. He knew there was at least one hidden in the back of his wallet and that he most likely would not need it, let alone a whole box. As much as he would completely enjoy spending the rest of their time away swapping orgasms in the tent with Taylor, the thought was a bit premature. Sure they’d spent the night before making out like nothing had changed, but that didn’t mean anything more was going to happen. He wasn’t even sure what would happen if he kissed her again.

So it was on pure impulse when Harry confidently responded with, “I’ll take one, actually.”

Becca’s eyes widened but she didn’t say anything as they headed back over to the counter and she scanned his items. Once he’d paid he handed her a $20 note and told her to stock up on Snickers, and he was about to bundle everything back up in his arms when she quickly asked, “Can I get a picture with you? Y'know, other than the security footage.” She pointed up at a camera behind her and Harry childishly waved up at it with a grin. Becca ducked into another room and reappeared with her phone a minute later, and he leaned across the counter, smiling for the photo.

They both thanked each other, and when Harry managed to get everything in the car he sent Taylor a text, ignoring the few he had sitting there that he hadn’t opened since they arrived. (Except for the one from his mum. He couldn’t not answer that.)

 **Text:** to **_Tay_**

**>** _You probably won’t see this since your phone’s shit but I’m on my way back xx_

It didn’t take Harry long to return and he somehow managed to successfully get everything back to camp without dropping anything at all, though that was almost completely lost when Taylor came running past him.

“Where have you _been?!”_

“Where are you going?”

“I have to pee!”

Harry watched her disappear down the path, smiling as he shook his head and climbed inside the tent. He noticed a few Polaroids spread across the blankets, but he figured he should sort all the stuff he’d bought before taking a proper look. He switched the ice bag for the new one, shoved the food in with the rest, and hid the condom box in the bottom of his bag. That was something he wasn’t keen on her finding, which made him wonder why he’d even bought them in the first place.

Carefully stepping over the photographs, Harry sat himself down on Taylor’s side of the bed and piled them together. They weren’t any he had seen before — she’d taken them herself while he was gone. There were five of them, with Taylor pulling a different face in each. He didn’t understand how it was possible for her to take a good photo every single time, but the evidence was right there in his hands. Taylor was just an overall adorable person and he believed that even more so when he noticed a Polaroid he’d missed when he’d been picking them up. It looked like an accident, like she had been laughing over the one she’d just taken and her finger had pressed down on the button without her meaning to. She was looking down, her head on an angle from where her hand had moved when she started laughing. There was a loose strand of her blonde hair falling on her cheek, with the whole photo focused on her smile. It was just a fact that everyone looked their most beautiful when they were happy, and if anyone needed any more convincing you could just hand them this one picture to prove them otherwise. Nothing was more beautiful than Taylor’s smile. At least, that’s all Harry could think.

When Taylor crawled back in the tent, Harry was still looking at the one Polaroid. “Sorry about that, I thought you were going to be quicker,” she explained as she moved over to him, and as he looked up to meet her eyes she bit down on her lip slightly. If his gaze was screaming “I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU” as much as every other part of him was he didn’t blame her for looking a little surprised.

“Do you like them?” she asked as she shuffled in close beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder as she looked down at the photos in his hands. “I got a bit bored waiting for you.”

Now that she was actually there sitting at his side Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and it felt like more of an observation than a compliment when he said, “You’re so beautiful.” It brought a shy smile to her face, and when her lips parted to speak he cut off her “thanks for saying that” with a surprise kiss before she’d even started. Short and gentle, they held each other’s eyes for the moment after.

“I want you to keep those ones,” she told him quietly. “I made some sandwiches too, if you want to get going?”

He smiled. “You were busy while I was gone.”

“I had to do _something_ to pass the time.”

“I wasn’t _that_ long.”

“You were _forever.”_

They grinned at each other, both going to grab their things to head off for the day. This, he realised, was one of the benefits of falling for your best friend. You didn’t have to try to click.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The other trail off from their campsite led to quite a different surprise. Harry hadn’t done a whole lot of research on the place before they got there, just, y'know, that it existed. He figured the trail would just wind them towards another clearing; he wasn’t expecting a small lake to come into view as they talked about finding somewhere to stop for a short rest.

“No fucking way!”

“Ha— God, _Harry_.”

It had to be some kind of record for the efficient time it took for him to drop his bag on the floor and strip down to his underwear. Really it was a bit irresponsible — who knows _what_ was in the water — but Harry really didn’t give a fuck. He just wanted to get clean (maybe) and have some fun with her in the process, and what better way than to run into some random lake they’d just discovered.

“Fuck it’s cold!”

“Then get out of there. Harry! Oh my god.”

He sunk down into the water with a splash. It was like a band aid — you just had to get it over with. It wasn’t particularly pleasant dropping into the cold shallow water, and it sent a gasp out of his lips and a slight shiver down his spine. Dunking his head under too, Harry got himself completely wet, shaking his head like the excited puppy he was when he resurfaced. “Refreshing!” he called, wiping the water from his eyes. “You coming?”

Taylor pulled a face, but she looked like she was seriously debating it. “Swimming in strange water isn’t what I like to do for fun,” she said.

“I promise it’s fine. And if it’s not you can hit me after.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“So come join me.”

Harry stood back up and opened his arms wide, and even though she rolled her eyes she couldn’t very well say no to that. Putting her camera case down with his stuff, he watched her mutter to herself as she slipped off her shoes and dropped her shorts. As soon as she began lifting her shirt over her head he recognised the purple briefs from the day before, and he knew he shouldn’t be staring but his eyes fixed on her emphasized cleavage as she slowly made her way into the water.

“It’s freezing!”

“You’ll get used to it. Promise.”

It had been all well and nice (kind of) for Harry to pull her into a hug as soon as she reached him, but pulling her down completely into the water with him without warning really wasn’t. Taylor squealed at the sudden temperature change, disentangling herself from him as soon as she had the chance. “Jerk!” she gasped, flicking water at him and pulling him into a kiss he hadn’t been expecting.

“Do you kiss all your jerky friends like that?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Only the special ones.”

Harry went for another kiss as she held herself up higher out the water to try to escape the cold. Then he was back to _eyes eyes eyes keep looking up at her eyes._ Which, y'know, lasted for about a whole five seconds.

One of the things Harry tried hardest to do was always be good to people — they were alike in that way. He didn’t want anyone to think he took his success for granted or that it had given him a newfound ego. He still wanted to be the guy his parents raised in Cheshire, just getting to live his dream too. He understood that he hadn’t been the best to Taylor when they were together, but he’d done a bit of growing up since then. He hoped she saw that.

If there was one time, though, that Harry never failed to be completely good to her it was romantically. Objectifying was high on his list of things not to do, but he wasn’t blind — respect was the key. He knew Taylor was unbelievably gorgeous and that she deserved to feel like it. He always focused on her every time, making sure she was comfortable with everything and trying to please her before even considering himself. He knew it worked — he could never forget the way she would look at him with wonder like he had just shown her the best thing in the world. She always looked so full of total bliss and he couldn’t explain how special to him it was to be the reason why. When he thought about it, it was the closest he ever got to telling her how much she meant to him.

Even so, Harry was still a guy, one who evidently found her very attractive from the morning’s, uh, events. He figured he could be excused for his eyes misbehaving after so long without seeing her in anything close to this.

“I’m still cold,” she told him, eyes wide and expecting.

“Get moving,” he replied, _against me_ on the tip of his tongue. Fucking frustration.

Taylor wrinkled her nose as she sunk back under the water and started swimming around him in circles. Harry, the little sweetheart, followed her by spinning around on the spot, lifting his arms up above his head like a ballerina and beaming when she laughed at him.

“This is why we needed to invite someone else — I want this on film,” she stated, slowing down her circles a bit as she watched him in amusement.

“Are you saying I’m funny looking?” Harry asked in mock offense, raising his eyebrows as he continued to spin around. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do in the water and he was getting a little dizzy, but he kept going anyway.

“You’re such a kid sometimes.”

“You only live once.”

Stopping in her tracks, Taylor burst into laughter, and she ran awkwardly through the water and out to their stuff. She dried her hands as best as she could on her shirt before picking up her camera and making her way back into the lake. She took careful steps, and as he still spun around Harry noticed she had his shirt wrapped around the camera. He heard the click a few times as he continued, and again when he finally gave up and fell into the water in dizziness.

“How you feeling?” Taylor asked when he didn’t move from his spot in the water.

“Dizzy,” he groaned.

“Whose fault is that?”

“Mine.”

“Come over here,” she instructed. “Unless you’re gonna be sick. Then get very far away from me — I’m not swimming in vomit.”

“’m fine,” he assured her, slowly wading over with his vision returning back to normal. He sure wasn’t spinning like that again. He wondered how ballerinas managed it. Did they have some special superpower that let them spin forever without getting dizzy?

“Karlie did ballet, didn’t she?” he asked when he stood up in front of her, still a little unbalanced.

Taylor just stared at him for a moment. “She’s not teaching you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Harry shook his head, giving a small laugh as he playfully poked her stomach and she squirmed. “How do they not get dizzy?”

“You look at a spot — like that tree over there,” she said, pointing over his shoulder, “and you keep your eyes on it. Here, I’ll show you.”

Taylor carefully passed the camera over to him and took a few steps backwards to the water’s edge. She paused for a moment as she focused on a point behind him. When she started to turn on the spot, Harry was surprised by how proper she looked. Well, if you ignored that she was in her underwear and her hair was flying around freely with every spin. He immediately saw what she meant — she kept her eyes facing that point as much as possible. Then he let himself take in the other parts of her — how she held her arms like she was in a proper class and not in a lake, the way she bounced on her toes, how impossibly long and lean her bare legs looked, the way her chest rose and fell with every turn. She wasn’t the most graceful — he excused it for the ground she was standing on — but he was totally transfixed. Something in his brain told him that this was something he wanted to remember, though he didn’t feel completely aware of himself as he snapped a few photos.

“It’s better when you see someone who actually knows what they’re doing,” she said when she came to a stop, shrugging slightly as if she hadn’t just impressed him.

“You seem to look like you do.”

“Kind of. But you should see Karlie — she’s amazing. Ballet is so beautiful and I’m so uncoordinated.”

“You’re not _that_ uncoordinated.”

Taylor pointed to her knee and needn’t say any more. She’d taken the bandage off earlier and it occurred to him that she should probably still be wearing it, but she didn’t seem to care. The exposed cut just made her point.

“Okay, maybe a little,” he gave in as she made her way back over to him. “But I still think you’re beautiful.”

“You’ll say that no matter what,” she countered, and it took everything in him not to break out into his own song when she kept her eyes down with a smile playing on her lips. She probably would’ve enjoyed that, to be honest.

Harry took a picture of her like that, and he smiled as she looked up at him at the sound. Taking a small step forward, she placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him gently, which only made him smile brighter when she pulled away. He didn’t question her either when she took his hand and started leading him out of the water and back to the trees. He just watched as she set up the camera in one of them, carefully balancing it in the gap where two branches met in a V. It was the perfect height for them, too.

When Taylor looked over her shoulder at him expectantly, Harry snapped out of his post-kiss I’ll-do-anything-for-you-to-do-that-again daze and moved in, arms wrapping around her stomach and chin resting on her shoulder. She had to bend down to slip the Polaroid into his shirt that she had put on the ground, which didn’t make for a very smooth transition between shots but they managed. Wide eyes, cheesy smiles, tongues out, kisses on cheeks — they took photos until the camera ran out of film. More memories.

With the suggestion of lunch next, Harry found a decent spot to sit down while Taylor brought their stuff over. He noticed her apprehension when she went to join him on the ground. It wasn’t the most comfortable, he had to admit. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he grabbed her hips as she went to sit anyway and he guided her down so she was sitting across his lap instead. Taylor gasped at the unexpected change in her path, almost falling backwards onto the ground.

“So you don’t get dirt all on you,” he explained, smiling as he rubbed her back where he’d caught her.

“Thanks,” she smiled back in appreciation, leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. She handed him a sandwich and took one out for herself, though it remained neglected in favour of their Polaroids. While she looked through them, Harry tried to focus on not focusing on the curves of her body and just how close she was actually sitting to his dick. Thank god he had the sandwich as a small but necessary distraction.

Taylor balanced the stack on top of his calf with two pictures resting on her own outstretched legs. Leaning in, he saw they were of their attempts at pirouettes in the water, and he was about to reach for the Polaroid of her to get a closer look when she tapped his hand away. Her phone was now in her hand, and she carefully snapped a photo of the prints before handing them to him. They had turned out quite good, actually. He hadn’t seen the rest, but he understood why she picked these two for whatever she was doing. They were as clear as they were going to get with the movement and the camera. Taylor was frozen facing the camera with her arms out in front of her, her hair flicking out around her and a small smile on her face. The one of him was not nearly as graceful, but you could tell he was having fun, which was really the point.

After a few minutes, Taylor held her phone up to him so he could read the screen. With service in this spot, she’d sent the photo to Karlie, asking who had done it better.

 **Text:** from **_Karlie_**

 **>** _Definitely you_

 **>** _But look at Harry’s hair!!_

Her phone started buzzing in her hand as she received more messages, but Harry was too quick for her. He’d grabbed it and was twisting his body away from her as he read the new texts.

 **Text:** from **_Karlie_**

 **>** _And excuse me miss but what are you doing in that underwear hmmm?_

**> ** _How hard is he right now?_

Harry ignored Taylor’s protests as he quickly started typing back.

 **Text:** to **_Karlie_**

 **>** _Offended you didn’t pick me. Glad you like my hair. H_

 **>** _The purple bra really knows how to work Taylor’s tits. H_

 **>** _So close. H_

 **>** _It’s killing me. H_

“Harry, _please_ ,” she whined insistently. “Give me my phone back.”

“Hang on. Let me say goodbye.”

 **Text:** to **_Karlie_**

 **>** _Taylor wants her phone back now. Pretend you don’t know I think her boobs look fantastic. Hope you’re having a nice day x H_

Harry handed her phone back, completely aware and unashamed that she was going to go back and read what he’d written. To be fair, if Karlie hadn’t mentioned it, he probably would’ve replied with a regular conversation. But one of his favourite subjects of discussion was Taylor, and he didn’t get to talk about her all that often, let alone talk about her boobs. Which, he realised, he really wanted to talk about. Preferably back in their tent and with no clothes on. But, y'know, you take what you can get.

He watched her as she went back over the messages, letting out an _“Oww!”_ when she punched him hard in the arm.

“Never say "Taylor’s tits” ever again,” she frowned. “Ever.”

It was the glint in her eyes that made him lean forward and cheekily whisper, “Taylor’s tits.”

“Stop it,” she demanded, returning to her phone to tap out a reply. Harry, the little shit he could be, still didn’t listen, his arm sliding around her waist as he kept whispering it in a sing-song voice a couple more times, lips brushing against her shoulder.

To her credit, Taylor lasted a good twenty seconds before she couldn’t ignore him any longer. Then she snapped, fixing him a hard look, the smile in it gone. “You wouldn’t be saying that if I wasn’t wearing this…” she trailed off with a frustrated gesture at her chest. “Just don’t, okay?”

Harry backed off, leaning back on his hands as he just looked her with his mouth shut, like he should’ve in the first place. He would’ve stayed like that longer if she didn’t look at him a minute or so later, her annoyance with him seeming to have faded fast. He tried a small smile, “You know I’m only teasing.”

“I know. I just—”

“You’re stunning, Taylor,” he insisted truthfully. “With or without the bra.”

Taylor gave a tiny smirk. “You’d rather without.”

He had to laugh at that, because they both knew perfectly well the thought had crossed his mind more than once. “Maybe.”

“People can be pretty terrible, y'know?” she started, sitting up a little straighter as she regained her confidence. “You’re criticised for being flat chested and then as soon as you wear a push up bra you’re accused of getting a boob job. It’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not, love.”

“It would be nice if we could just be left alone sometimes,” she said a little sadly. Harry knew she was subject to countless amounts of pointless gossip and he’d always admired the way she carried herself in spite of it, especially after so many years. They’d had a good laugh at some of the things written about them, too. It seemed the only way to stay sane. “Thank you again for this,” she said with a soft smile, “I’ve got a lot ahead of me and I think having some time to relax is really good for me.”

“So I suppose suggesting we go for a run wouldn’t be what you had in mind?”

Taylor laughed, “I would’ve thought your idea of using up our energy would be different.” With her smirk returning, staring was all Harry could manage as she glanced down at her chest and very purposely grabbed her breasts as she adjusted her bra. Even as she returned to her phone and finally started on her sandwich, he couldn’t stop staring, despite how many times he told himself that he was on the verge of obsessive creep and needed to stop.

Thank god she turned the screen of her phone back to him after a while, since he was going through a list in his head of words that rhymed with “tits” that was sure to end in a horrific poem, and probably another punch in the arm.

Her hand was covering the bottom of the screen so he couldn’t read her recent replies. Intentional.

 **Text:** from **_Karlie_**

 **>** _Well what do you want?_

 **>** _I bet he’s still saying it in his head_

 **>** _He’s probably making a song about it right now_

**> ** _I don’t blame him to be honest. You’re hotter than you give yourself credit for_

**>** _Work it babe_

Harry laughed a little, since he didn’t know how else to respond. Really he should’ve tried to defend himself, but that would be a lie he was sure she’d be able to see through.

She started getting more replies coming through, but she wasn’t prepared to keep hiding the ones she had been trying to in the first place. His eyes quickly sped over the texts nudged further up the screen before she realised and moved her phone away from his view.

 **Text:** to **_Karlie_**

 **>** _It’s all coming back Kar_

 **>** _I don’t think I realized how much I still want /all/ of him_

Taylor looked at him warily, checking what he’d seen, and Harry just smiled at her like he hadn’t read anything at all.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They spent a while longer messing around in the lake and washing off the dirt they’d gotten on themselves from sitting on the ground, after Taylor had finished her sandwich and they waited the required half hour, of course. Harry lost himself in it, letting the sounds of their laughter and splashes of water distract him. But it was still lingering in the back of his mind — _“I still want /all/ of him”_ — with every smile, every touch of her bare skin reminding him.

With every reminder, though, he told himself something important — just because she said that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He shouldn’t get his hopes up too high when she could just as easily turn around and tell him she wanted to go home and never see him again.

After stopping off at the tent to grab a change of clothes, the pair headed to the toilet block hand in hand. (Harry had dared to take hers and was thrilled when Taylor swung them playfully as they walked along.) Harry gave her a short kiss before they separated, even though they were right where they were most likely to get caught. They lingered for a moment, Taylor smiling at him over her shoulder before she disappeared into the ladies’ room.

There wasn’t anyone around when Harry entered through the other door, and he gladly took the second shower stall from the end. He hung his clothes and his towel up on the hook on the back of the door before switching the hot tap on. Even if it ran cold, it couldn’t be as bad as the lake felt at first, right?

There was a rather loud squeal from the next room, the picture of Taylor stepping under a stream of freezing water coming to mind.

Smiling to himself, Harry braced himself for the same, but was pleasantly surprised by warmth. It wasn’t amazing, but it was better than when he’d tested it the day before.

“Taylor! Babe, it’s warm in here!” he yelled through the wall. “Taylor!”

It didn’t take her too long to shuffle in and knock on the stall door, awkwardly trying to hold up her towel and carry her stuff at the same time. “God, Harry!” She squeezed her eyes shut when he opened the door for her. “A little warning next time.”

“What? I’m having a _shower_. It’s the one place it’s acceptable to be naked,” he reasoned with a grin.

“Oh, go wash your hair.”

Harry walked back to the shower head and reached for his bottle of shampoo obediently while Taylor threw her stuff unceremoniously over the side wall of the stall.

“No looking,” she told him as she joined him under the water, and he nodded an okay.

It was awkward, to say the least. They’d never shared a friends-only shower before — Harry didn’t think friends actually did that, especially not friends that used to be dating. They bumped into each other every now and then as they stood back to back, fighting for more of the water stream to wash out their shampoo. Neither of them apologised, instead just pretending it hadn’t happened. But Harry was standing there with a stupid smile on his face — _“I touched her butt”_ — and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was too.

“Hey, Tay,” he said after a while of silence. “Remember what you said about us showering together?”

“Oh god,” she groaned.

“Since we’ve already braided each other’s hair, we only have to fuck against a tree and plan world domination and we’re good,” he grinned cheekily.

“Three out of four isn’t bad.”

“But I liked the idea of taking over the world.”

Taylor took him by surprise by elbowing him in the back, though not very hard. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Excuse me for misunderstanding; we _are_ both naked right now.”

“Right. Aren’t you done yet? You’re taking up all the room.”

“Am not.”

“Yes you are. Just ‘cause you’re bigger than me doesn’t mean you can push me out the way.”

“When did I push you?”

“You’re just moving in so I have to step out the way so we won’t hit each other and it’s not fair.”

“You were doing that to me!”

“No I wasn’t!”

“Fine,” Harry huffed, making an unnecessary show of running his fingers through his hair one last time and stepping out from under the water. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.”

He shook his head as he walked to the other end of the stall. They should’ve just taken turns.

Even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to, as he grabbed his towel off the hook on the door Harry snuck a glance over at Taylor. He didn’t feel particularly guilty, though he knew he should since she had asked for privacy. He could only really see the back of her anyway; she’d taken up the space when he’d left, her leg propped up against the wall and a razor in her hand.

“Are you really shaving right now?” he asked without thinking first what his question revealed. He could’ve gotten away with it otherwise.

“Just 'cause we’re out in the wilderness doesn’t mean I want to have hairy animal legs,” she said, and he could picture her nose crinkled at the thought. “And you said you wouldn’t look!”

“It was an accident.”

Taylor glanced over her shoulder at him with this look of total disbelief. “Yeah, and if this bar of soap slipped out of my hand and hit you in the head it would be an accident.”

He smiled, “Again, your sarcasm hurts me.”

“I can’t help who I am, Harry."

Shaking his head again, he dried himself off and slipped into his clothes without trying to sneak another peek at Taylor, as tempting as it was. He warned her when he was about to open the door, not that there seemed to be anyone else around, and headed for a sink once she had managed to lock the door again without flashing him. He felt a little bad for thinking that was a shame.

Harry dropped his stuff on the floor without considering what was on the tiles — who _knew_ how frequently these bathrooms were cleaned (judging by the state of the mirror, not often) — and rummaged through his overnight bag. Pulling out a razor of his own and a can of shaving cream, he sprayed some on his face and got started. Honestly, he didn’t have anywhere close to the impressive facial hair he’d been bragging about when he’d texted her in the beginning. It was better just to get rid of it all.

He was almost finished when Taylor emerged from the stall with her things bundled up in her arms. She put one arm around him as she rested her chin on his shoulder, startling him. Hand slipping, the razor nicked his jaw, and he scrunched up his nose at her reflection in the scratched mirror. She smiled and rubbed his waist.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, and he shrugged his opposite shoulder.

“’s alright.”

“Y'know, I was waiting for that moustache you were talking about,” she teased, her fingers sliding up underneath his shirt. Another distraction.

“I think we both know that wasn’t going to happen.”

Harry dragged the razor down one last time before splashing his face with water.

“You’re still bleeding,” Taylor noted when he brought his head up from the sink, and she carefully bent down and picked up his towel without dropping anything she was holding. She pressed the corner to the small cut on his jaw and held it there for a moment.

“Thank you,” he smiled gently, taking the towel from her and drying his face. He dabbed on some aftershave and turned to Taylor, who rested her hand on his cheek as she gave him a kiss.

“Your little bit of facial hair was kind of hot, though.”

“ _Now_ you tell me.”

Taylor laughed and moved her hand down to take his. “Can we go now? It’s kind of really disgusting in here.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Later, the pair munched through the packet of plain Doritos and moved on to the cheese supreme to finish off their jar of dip that had originally been intended for lunch but had become dinner for the night. They ate through several aggressive rounds of UNO (note: _never_ play games with competitive people) and Harry brought out the drinks once he’d lost miserably, _again_.

“Getting me drunk isn’t going to make you a better UNO player,” Taylor told him factually as he handed her a bottle of red liquid.

“No, but it might make me forget how shit I am.”

With the sun almost set, they had the lanterns dotted around them as they sat on the dirt, cards between them. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon talking and messing around with a Frisbee in their clearing, with no hint of the text that Harry shouldn’t have seen. That hadn’t stopped him reading it over in his mind in her voice, again and again and again. All he needed to make sure was that he kept his mouth shut for, well, ever.

“This is actually pretty nice,” Taylor smiled at him after taking a sip of the drink he’d selected for her.

“You’ve never had one before?”

She shook her head as she started shuffling the cards again. “Nope.”

“Ah. Go big or go home, eh?” he teased, laughing as she stuck her tongue out at him.

“It doesn’t surprise me that _you_ like these.” She smiled when he raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Remember that time when you got me that _really_ nice fruity cocktail and you drank like half of it?”

Harry remembered. Harry remembered dancing with her and getting really drunk and having to get her another drink after he’d found the first wonderfully delicious when she’d let him try some. Harry remembered every — well, _most_ — decision of “girly” drinks instead of hard liquor and honestly, he didn’t give a fuck. Who needs a whiskey when you’re sharing cocktails with the hottest girl at the whole goddamn party?

“Let’s make things more interesting,” he proposed once she’d dealt out the cards, letting her previous comment rest. “Loser has to do a shot.”

Taylor looked at him in disbelief, “You brought shot glasses?”

“We have cups,” he shrugged.

She hesitated briefly. “Fine. It won’t be me doing it, anyway.”

Harry could’ve called her out on her cocky attitude, but his hand sucked. He had started to think she was stacking the game when she always seemed to have more wild cards than him; she was always ruthless with her draw two’s and four’s, too. One minute you were peacefully putting down some numbers, the next she would whip out a few draw two’s in a row and you were left with more cards than you started with as she put her last down. Harry had already downed three cups of straight vodka before she had to do her first.

“This was a pretty shit idea,” he said as she licked her lips and put her cup down.

“You don’t say,” she laughed, collecting the cards together and shuffling again.

“You could always lose on purpose.”

“And why would I do that?”

“So I’m not pissed while you’re still buzzed.”

“What happened to _”I didn’t intend on getting us wasted”_?”

“Do you care if we do?”

Taylor tilted her head, smiling at him. “I told you, I’m happy not putting too much thought into all this. If that means we drink all these tonight, so be it.”

Harry rubbed his chin. “I think you’re lying.” He took a sip of his drink before continuing, “You’re an over-thinker, always have been. No way you haven’t done it for this.”

Ever since she’d said that, Harry had wondered why. He knew Taylor over-thought everything, and he didn’t believe she could just switch that off for something as big as this whole trip. He just didn’t think to say so before.

Dealing out another hand, Taylor picked up her cards and met his expectant eyes. "Has it occurred to you that maybe I _want_ to drink with you? That I _want_ to spend time with you? Harry, if I wasn’t into this I would’ve said so. You know I’m not afraid to do that.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. He just picked up his cards, silently relieved to see he had something decent this time.

“Hey,” she said, uncrossing her legs and nudging his knee with her foot to get his attention back. “I like you, Harry. Can you at least try to look a little happy about that?”

A smile crept up on his face. “Define like.”

She laughed, “That’s my Harry.”

They kept playing until they’d gone through a third of their alcohol supply and Harry finally cracked, throwing his cards at her when she beat him, _again._ There was only so much losing he could take.

“C'mon, let’s do something else,” Taylor smiled as she collected all the cards and stumbled into the tent with a lantern, leaving him to bring in the rest.

“God, _more_ cards?” he frowned when he saw she had replaced the UNO cards with a plain deck. That wasn’t quite what he had in mind when she said “something else.”

“What, scared you’re still gonna be a loser?” she grinned. “Let’s play blackjack.”

“Strip blackjack?” he asked with the thoughtless casualty of someone who had chugged too many cups of vodka.

She surprised him with a smirk. “Sure.”

Oh the beauty of liquor.

“On one condition,” she added, “Underwear stays on.”

“Okay.”

That was better than nothing.

Taylor shuffled and dealt some cards while Harry grabbed another two bottles from the cooler. They were both feeling it by now — _clearly_ , since she’d just agreed to _strip blackjack._ He’d always liked having her to drink with, especially when they attended the same parties. They were a lot looser with each other, with comments they wouldn’t normally make and touches they wouldn’t go for otherwise. There was nothing quite like dancing with her after downing some shots. 

It didn’t take long for the first round to be over. With 16, Harry had picked up another card in the hope of getting closer but instead ended up way over 21. Off went his shirt.

The second, Harry lost by one, and he was slow to un-buckle his belt and pull it off.

The third, Taylor took off one of her socks, which Harry protested against but gave in to when he received said sock in a throw to the face.

The fourth, Harry pulled off his own sock to spite her when he got 22. Taylor started singing at him and they got off topic talking about her 22nd birthday party for a few minutes. He decided he really wished he’d been there.

The fifth, Taylor took off her other sock and threw it at Harry for no real reason other than that she had done it with her other one. It landed on his shoulder and he just left it there.

The sixth, Taylor set her hand down with a blank expression and looked him straight in the eye as she said, “Blackjack.” Harry lost the game by default, and he wriggled out of his jeans with the determination to get Taylor in her underwear too.

The seventh, with nothing left to take off, Harry took a drink instead.

The eighth, Harry did it again.

The ninth, Taylor tossed her shorts aside and Harry had a hard time trying not to stare at her legs.

It wasn’t until the thirteenth, ironically, that Taylor lost again. She made a bit of a show of it, pulling her shirt off and stretching her arms up above her head as she tossed it aside. She leaned back on her hands and smiled at Harry, who couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I think this is the part where we’re meant to make out,” she said casually.

Well _fuck._

“Why not throw in some body shots while we’re at it?” he suggested, and she shook her head.

“I don’t want to get all _sticky_ ,” she whined, her hand slowly running down her bare stomach and Harry staring obviously at her underwear. He wished she hadn’t taken the good girl route and just let them go all out in the game.

When she grabbed her bottle and downed the last of the liquid inside, Taylor held the empty glass out to him. “Can you grab me another one, babe? And make it stronger?”

“You like this, eh?” he smiled as he took the bottle and switched it with a full one from the cooler, drinking a bit himself before mixing in some straight vodka while Taylor laid down and slipped her fingers in her hair.

“I _love_ this,” she answered definitely. “I haven’t had many drinks in ages. And I always have to wear clothes at home in case some crazy person points a camera through my window.” She sat up again when Harry crawled back over, smiling as she leaned in to kiss him. “I can’t do that either.”

Her drink was left neglected in his hand in favour of the taste of each other’s lips. They kissed long and heated, with Taylor’s hands moving to rest on his cheek and in his hair. When she did pull away, she had shifted herself up onto her knees and she looked at him with sparkling eyes.

“C'mere, baby,” Harry beckoned her, and immediately she climbed onto his lap like she’d been waiting for his permission. He slung his arm around her waist loosely and kissed her again, the pair of them smiling into it. They settled into each other’s touch easily.

If you asked Harry what his favourite things to do were, kissing Taylor was pretty high up on his list. He loved being with her in general, but there was something extra special about her kisses. Maybe it was because her lips were always soft and tasted sweet, or that she would play with the hair at the nape of his neck, or that he would sometimes wake up with lipstick stains on his neck after a night with her. Or maybe it was just because they fit together. Harry had always felt comfortable with her, even as they took that first step between being friends and something more. He didn’t feel like he had to question himself when her hand slipped in his so easily and her body fit cuddled up in his arms and her lips pressed tenderly to his. He’d never been with anyone that felt so right to him and he regretted not trying harder to make things work with her, not trying hard enough to show her how much she really meant to him. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

They drank and giggled at nothing in particular in between kisses. They touched and moaned and played with each other’s tongues, and Harry wondered where on earth all his willpower was coming from when he had Taylor rubbing herself against him to the rhythm of the kiss and groaning into his mouth. It was a miracle he managed to control himself when she moved her thumb in circles over his nipple.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked, tiny pout when she pulled away from the kiss he’d started giggling into. He didn’t want to admit what had sprung to mind, but she was looking at him like she was worried she had done something wrong and he couldn’t let her think that.

So he actually started singing Drunk In Love at her and she threw her head back laughing.

“You’re such a dork!” she beamed, kissing him again with her hands resting on either side of his face. She liked doing that.

“’s fine,” he said, pulling back briefly. “You are too.”

Harry poked her side cheekily and she squirmed and let out a laugh, sliding her hands down to his shoulders and pushing him back down on the blankets.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised, propping herself up on her elbows as she lay on top of him.

“Don’t do this?”

He poked her again, grinning as she couldn’t stop herself from repeating her reaction.

“Yes that! Poke me again and I won’t kiss you.”

That was enough of a threat to get him to behave. Harry pulled her into another kiss that lasted a long while, lips parting and tongues colliding. His hands wandered her bare skin with alcohol-induced assurance and he couldn’t help his smile every time she gave a small sigh against his lips. He’d missed making her do that.

Taylor was the first to break away once more, this time trailing hot kisses down his neck and chest. She paused at the space just above his butterfly tattoo, and he gave a low moan as she started sucking down. Her confidence sometimes came as a surprise to him, though he didn’t know why.

Harry had always found it kind of funny that it was assumed she was this innocent little flower. He admired the way she had managed to maintain that kind of image without having a meltdown and spiralling out of control. The thing was, Taylor was always being Taylor. She didn’t pretend to be someone else, even more so now. And maybe that was why he found it so ridiculously attractive when she took the lead. He got to see a part of her that no one else did, and that meant everything to him.

When she was satisfied with the mark she left, Taylor moved back up to whisper in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine at the one word — _“Mine.”_

He hoped she could tell he was trying to say it back when their lips met again.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“Can I sleep in one of your shirts tonight?” Taylor requested after she eventually sat up and declared she was tired. They’d both completely lost track of time, too busy losing themselves in each other.

“But what about your fantastic boobs?” he teased, smirking lazily as she wrinkled her nose. She had gotten changed after their shower, obviously, and they’d fashioned a clothes line in the afternoon using some string and pegs Harry had brought to dry their clothes from the lake. She’d switched to simple white underwear, which, while not as fancy, Harry still appreciated. Taylor could wear literally anything and he’d still think she was to die for.

“You’re a liar,” she said with a grin before climbing off of him. Harry could hardly help himself from staring as she crawled over to his bag, until he heard his phone buzz in the pocket of his discarded jeans. He searched for it curiously as Taylor rummaged through his stuff for something to wear.

 **Text:** from **_Liam_**

 **>** _Where you been? Haven’t heard from you in a few days x_

Harry hadn’t announced where he was going; he’d only just managed to convince security that he was going out of town for a few days and it wasn’t necessary to have anyone come with him. That way, if everyone thought he had really disappeared, at least _someone_ would know he was fine. No one would think to ask Taylor or any of her friends.

Hearing a giggle from Taylor, he turned his attention from his phone back to her. “What’re you laughing at?”

“Did you have something planned?” she asked, biting back another giggle as she turned around. He froze when he saw what was in her hand.

Right. The condoms. He’d forgotten about those.

“I— um—”

“I guess I kinda ruined the surprise then, didn’t I?” she teased. “But I still don’t know _how_ you were gonna do it. I mean, I know _how_ , but like, are you gonna take me on a romantic midnight swim in the lake first? Or surprise me with a dozen roses you pull out of nowhere? Or maybe a simple “let’s fuck” after some Coco Pops?”

Harry dropped his phone and turned on his side, facing away from her. He regretted buying those. He really regretted buying those; goddamn him and his stupid pride.

He ignored her further laughter, keeping his gaze on the tent wall as if if he rolled back after a few minutes that wouldn’t have just happened. He was starting to convince himself it could ring true until he felt a tap on his arm. “What?” he mumbled.

“I fixed it.”

“What?” he repeated, turning back to see her grinning with his phone in her hand. It was open on his inbox, and he had to take it from her to read it properly. He noticed the difference almost straight away.

He’d always liked _Tay_ , as simple as it was. He didn’t want to just write _Taylor,_ and adding her last name like with some of his other contacts didn’t feel right at all. But now Taylor had jazzed it up a bit, her contact name reading _TAY TAY_ followed by three heart eyes emojis. He was okay with this.

“You’re welcome!” Taylor bounced on the spot before climbing over him and under the blankets, dressed in the shirt he had worn on the first night. He was about to join her when he noticed the most recent message in his conversation with Liam had changed.

 **Text:** to **_Liam_**

 **>** _Harry’s busy trying to make it out of the woods -T_

“He’s not gonna get it,” he told her, glancing over and watching her get herself comfortable.

“I know. Can you turn the lanterns off?”

Tossing his phone aside again, Harry switched off the few lanterns they had on before fumbling his way under the covers. Taylor gravitated towards him, her arm sliding across his stomach as he settled himself with his around her.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered unexpectedly.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, moving his hand over her hip gently. She nuzzled up against him with a gentle sigh. He loved her cuddles just as much as having her lips on his.

They laid there quietly for a while, relaxing into each other in the dark. There was one thought nagging at the back of his mind, one question on the tip of his tongue that he was hesitant to ask. But after sharing affection for so long tonight, now seemed like as good a time to ask as he was going to get.

“Are we gonna keep hanging out after this?”

Taylor tilted her head to look up at him as best as she could. “I don’t know about you,” she whispered, her foot nudging his, “but I don’t think I could pretend none of this ever happened.”

Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying three words that would’ve changed everything.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry’s phone read 10:37AM when he woke up. It wasn’t the at least ten hours he thought he deserved after yesterday, and if he didn’t need to go take a trip to a nearby tree so badly he would’ve refused to get up. Having Taylor still wrapped around him didn’t help, either.

Carefully taking his arm away, Harry tried to extract himself from their embrace without disturbing Taylor — at least one of them deserved a full sleep. It didn’t work though, since as soon as he moved her arm off his stomach and tried to sit up she stirred. “Hmm?” she hummed, her eyes barely opening.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he said gently as he climbed out from under the blankets and made an attempt to un-zip the tent quietly. (Who made zips so inconveniently loud anyway?) It wasn’t until he was out in the open that he realised he was only in his underwear, but it’s not like he cared. No one was around to see anyway.

Harry returned to the tent a few minutes later feeling much better, though Taylor looked as crashed out as she had before. With her body stretched out in the space he’d left unoccupied, her blonde hair was fanned out over the pillow and across her face, her make up smudged around her eyes. She looked like she’d had a hard night out hopping from club to club until she’d found a nice boy to go home with. _Totally_ a Taylor thing to do.

“What time is it?” she mumbled without shifting at all when he crawled back over after zipping them back in.

“Um, not even 11.”

Taylor groaned, just as he had their first morning. She opened her eyes properly to look at him as he tried to figure out how to get back under the covers now that she’d overtaken his spot, though they quickly shut a moment later, her hands shooting up to cover her face. _“Fuck!”_ she cursed loudly. “Fuck fuck _fuck!”_

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brow furrowing in concern.

“I slept in my contacts,” she whined, and Harry immediately snapped into action. He turned to their belongings and searched for her cosmetic bag; this wasn’t the first time he had distracted her enough to forget her nightly routine. Taylor sat up when he placed her bag beside her, giving him the smallest smile as a thank you as he held up her mirror for her. It fell when she looked at her reflection, and he was sure he could pick what she was thinking.

“You don’t look at all bad, Tay,” he reassured her gently.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” she murmured.

Harry watched in silence as she fixed herself up, removing her contacts from her eyes tinged with red and yesterday’s smudged make up. She brushed her hair back to its smooth natural waves and slid on her glasses. She put everything back in her bag carefully, and he waited until their gazes reconnected to speak again, “You always look good to me.”

“Maybe you’re the one who needs glasses,” she said with a small laugh. Her eyes noticeably moved down his bare chest, her jaw dropping slightly when she took in the mark she had left in the heat of the night before. It had turned a dark red overnight, standing out in amongst his tattoos. She tilted her head to the side in consideration, fingers running through her hair. “I wasn’t very subtle last night, was I?” she concluded.

“I liked it,” he said, the grand understatement it was. A grin crept up on his face as he reached across for her hand, interlacing their fingers.

Taylor returned the smile, pressing her lips together as she gave his hand a squeeze. “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but I _really_ have to pee.”

Harry laughed and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Put some pants on and go fix that, love. I can get the moment back after.”

“Hmm, you’re so charming,” she teased, turning to locate the shorts she’d discarded during their game of blackjack. The cards were still scattered across the blankets, and she pushed a few aside as she climbed out and wriggled back into her pants. “I’ll be back,” she told him before slipping on some shoes and un-zipping the tent. He could hear her footsteps, heavier than usual as she dashed off as best as she could in her state.

Collecting the deck of cards, Harry slipped them back into her bag. He put away his own clothes from the night before and found his way back under the blankets. It would’ve been nicer if it hadn’t been quite so bright, but if he curled himself up in a ball and let his hair flop over his face it wasn’t so bad. But then thoughts of last night started to settle in, and the idea of going back to sleep went out the, uh, window. (Were there tents came with windows? Would that not be an invitation for a bug infestation to stroll on inside? Harry didn’t like the sound of that, and he knew Taylor would hate it even more.)

If Harry got an M&M every time he had a thought about Taylor, he would have enough to build his own multi-coloured castle by now, complete with chocolate furnishings and replicas of her impressive award collection. He could have an open day where people could go inside, and he’d hope to god that nobody would munch on the walls and that the whole thing didn’t start melting. (“Where’d you get all these, anyway?” “Oh, I’m kind of in love with this girl…”) Unfortunately, life wasn’t as sweet as that.

Instead he laid there remembering her smile and the soft curve of her hips, and all he received in return was a red light flashing in his mind telling him to stop stop _stop_ before he let himself go too far and they had a repeat of yesterday morning.

When Taylor returned, Harry was in the middle of contemplating whether suggesting sex after breakfast like she had teased him about would actually work. His final decision was probably not once she had made her way back inside and muttered, “Trust you to fall back to sleep.”

Harry, seizing the opportunity, kept quiet as she took off her shoes and her glasses, and surprisingly her shorts too. He practically gave her a heart attack when she got back in bed facing away from him and he wrapped his arm around her waist, voice low as he spoke against her neck, “Fuck you, I can keep myself awake.”

“Fuck you for pretending to be asleep,” she hissed, her hand moving to rest over his. “What if I had decided to get dressed properly? You already proved you can’t keep your eyes to yourself.”

“Fuck you, I told you it was an accident.”

“Fuck you, you’re the worst liar.”

The “fuck you” game was one that they’d played countless times and was usually short-lived. It had started out as an accident, but for some reason it had stuck. Probably because it almost always ended with them teasing each other until they _actually_ fucked.

“Fuck you,” Harry groaned and nipped at her earlobe, “for being so bloody gorgeous.”

Taylor sighed and he felt her press her body more against his. “Fuck you for listening to me when I said I wanted to sleep.”

It took him a moment to process that.

“Fuck you—”

He was cut off by her turning to face him, her finger pressing to his lips. She held his gaze for a long few seconds with a small mischievous smile. “Later,” she whispered, barely audible, and replaced her finger with her lips.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Once they had eventually prized themselves apart and had gotten changed in their usual no-looking manner, it became evident that they weren’t going to talk about how they’d spent the last half hour with their tongues down each other’s throats and their hands all over each other, or about any of the other times they’d accidentally ended up making out. Not that talking was really what Harry had in mind, but still. Talking would mean acknowledging that both of them were so obviously still into each other and would lead to _the_ talk, but instead Harry was going off on a coffee run because Taylor had whined about not having one in days and her head being fuzzy from last night, and he was so set on fulfilling her every request that he had told her he’d go get her one. She could’ve told him to fashion a lounge chair and fan her with the biggest leaf he could find whilst simultaneously feeding her grapes and he would’ve done it. Thank god his band mates weren’t around to see, because he could guarantee a steady string of whipping sounds from at least one of them. (Hint: Louis, and probably Niall too)

So Harry found himself back at the service station, replying to the texts from his mum and from Liam that he had ignored earlier in the morning.

**Text:** from **_Liam_**

**>** _T???_

**>** _Where are you???_

**Text:** to **_Liam_**

**>** _Long story. Tell you later x_

“Come back for more, have you?” came the call from the counter as he walked inside, and Harry smiled as he approached the familiar face. “Unfortunately for you, last night we were cleaned out of potato chips and gummy bears, but you’ll be pleased to hear we still have plenty of condoms and gum to keep your breath minty fresh for your special lady.”

He laughed, “You know, I’m not normally approached by people making fun of me.”

Becca rolled her eyes. “I can scream at you if it would make you more comfortable.”

“No thanks.”

“Good, I’d like to keep my dignity.”

“Do you do lattes here?”

“ _I_ don’t do lattes, _you_ do lattes,” she said, pointing across at a large coffee machine fixed into the wall near the end of the counter that he’d managed to miss. “Warning you now: it tends to burn the beans.”

Taylor didn’t like shitty coffee. Well, no one did really, but he knew she always complained whenever it wasn’t made right. (“God, Harry, I told you I wanted a _bit_ of sugar, not the whole bag.”)

“You’ve got a kitchen out back, right?” he asked hopefully. “How much would it cost to let me go and make my own perfectly made coffee?”

“It would cost my job. And as lame as it can be standing here with nothing to do for hours, I’d like to keep it.”

Harry nodded. Shitty coffee it was.

He walked over the machine, praying that he would be in luck and it would turn out decent.

As it turns out, the state of the beans wasn’t the only thing he had to worry about. He was pretty shitty at operating the coffee machine too. It’s not like he’d never used one before, but apparently he was a bit out of practise.

First, he knocked over some cups and awkwardly returned them like it hadn’t happened. Then, after he had carefully aligned a cup under the shoot the coffee came out of, he realised he had pressed the wrong button and that he had ordered a cappuccino instead of a latte, which wasn’t too big of a deal since he could just have that one himself. But when he moved it aside to make the next, the liquid spilled over the side and burnt his hand, as if just to give him another reason to think poorly of the experience. With a curse under his breath, he managed to make the latte and stir some sugar into both, only losing a bit more from his cappuccino when he tried to put a lid on. Then came the taste test and yeah, it was a little burnt.

Fuck coffee machines.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any, like, English muffins, would you?” Harry queried as he made his way back to the counter, cups carefully in hand. 

“Like breakfast muffins? No, you’ve got to get here early if you want something like that.” Becca moved along the counter to the long glass cabinets containing shelves of the food that needed to be kept hot or out of reach from grabbing hands. “Our regular muffins are pretty good. These chocolate ones — they’re self-saucing, so they’ve got this chocolate frosting on the inside.”

That sounded really fucking great, but maybe not for the first meal of the day. “Got anything lighter?” he asked. “We skipped breakfast.”

“Skipping breakfast and buying coffee? Spend a hard night partying, did we?” Eyebrows raised, she eyed him with intrigue. “Blueberry okay?”

“That’ll be fine,” he said, and she returned with two paper bags without him having to specify.

“Anything else?”

Harry shook his head, watching her press some buttons on the till and thanking her again after he paid. He held the top of the bags in his hand, hesitating for a moment. “Have you… heard anything?”

It was a question that had been lingering in the back of their minds, but neither Harry nor Taylor had brought it up with each other. It was entirely possible that somebody had seen them leaving or had made a connection with their absences — it wouldn’t be the first time rumours started out of wild speculation, and it sure wasn’t going to be the last. All it would take was a simple Google search on his phone of his name to find out, but he decided just to ask Becca instead. She could tell it gently.

“About you? Um, I don’t exactly keep up to date on things that probably aren’t true anyway.”

“Probably a good idea.”

“I think you can take it being dead quiet here as a good sign.”

Harry smiled and thanked her again — this time for keeping his secret — and weirdly juggled the coffee cups in his hands and the muffin bags in his mouth as he headed back out to his car. He really appreciated that she hadn’t spread the news to anyone and everyone she could find. The last thing he and Taylor needed was desperate girls searching all over the area.

When he returned to camp with his effective carrying method, Harry found the tent open and Taylor standing across their little clearing, her back to him. With the muffin bags in his mouth he couldn’t exactly announce his presence, but he didn’t want to scare her. His footsteps got her attention anyway, and when she turned around he could tell something was up. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her brows creased in a slight frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when she walked over and took the bags from between his teeth.

Tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear, she smiled softly, “Besides you being a total sweetheart?”

“That’s a bad thing?” he frowned, confused.

She shook her head, her hand lingering on the side of his neck. “Of course not.”

“So what’s going on?”

“I wandered around a bit to try to get service on my phone — still jealous about that, by the way.”

“But we’re good, right? No one’s figured us out.”

It was entirely possible that Becca’s assumption had been wrong and they were in trouble. But for what, exactly? Spending time with a friend wasn’t a crime. Though the way some people acted, you’d think it was.

“That’s not…” She sighed. “I had a missed call yesterday, and maybe if I didn’t ignore it I would’ve been able to reschedule but—”

“Reschedule what?”

Taylor chewed her lip as his confused stare never left her. “I have an album thing. Normally when I’m on a break it’s not too big of a deal if things come up on short notice, ‘cause it’s not like I get up to a whole lot anyway. When I called him back I asked if it could be pushed back a couple more days but he said it was important. He thought I was back in my apartment and, I don’t know, that I already planned to go for lunch or something that day. I tried to tell him I wasn’t in town but he said there was plenty of time for me to get back. I don’t even _want_ to go; it’s probably just gonna be another “No, Taylor, that idea won’t work” debate.” She sighed again, pouting, “I’m really, _really_ sorry, Harry.”

Oh. Okay.

He knew they couldn’t stay out here forever. From the very first time he’d thought about asking her to escape with him, Harry knew it couldn’t last. They both had their own lives, which meant, now that he thought about it, _he_ should really be the one to bring their trip to an end — _who_ was still on tour? He just wished they could have more than just a few days.

“How long have we got?” he asked, trying not to sound so disappointed. He knew she could still see it.

“It’s in three days, but I should probably be back a bit beforehand.”

Harry handed her her latte and fixed a smile. “Plenty of time.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They stayed outside while they ate, taking to the spot near the tent that had become their place for dinners. Harry kept his arm slung around her waist as they sat side by side, and they made small talk as they picked at their muffins and sipped at their coffees.

“This tastes kinda burnt,” she commented.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“I miss _your_ tea. The perks of befriending an Englishman — great tea.”

Harry pretended to look offended. “You only want me for my tea!”

“Not _just_ your tea. I happen to like your cooking as well.”

He laughed and kissed her hair. “Glad to know what I mean to you.”

“Please, you want me for my baking.”

“And I do love Meredith.”

“Glad to know what I mean to you,” Taylor smirked, tilting her head for a proper kiss.

“Where’s your camera, love?”

“Nuh uh,” she shook her head a bit and rested her hand on his thigh to stop him from moving. “I told you, I look terrible.”

“Most beautiful girl in the world. Inside and out.” Harry grinned, pressing his lips to her cheek before getting up despite her actually quite strategic effort. A slide further up his jeans and he probably would’ve been too hopeful to leave.

He ducked into the tent and found her camera case easily in amongst her things, and he snapped a picture of her on his way back. “Lovely.”

“Mhmm,” Taylor hummed, unconvinced. She buried her face in his loose curls when he sat down and tried to take another picture of them.

“C'mon, love,” he coaxed. “You don’t know you’re beautiful and all that.”

Taylor laughed. “What, no serenade? Disappointed, Styles.”

Harry broke out into song and she laughed again, cupping his cheek as she pulled him into an interrupting kiss. A click of the camera and she pulled away, tapping him on the chest playfully.

He took a couple more photos as they sat there on the ground — coffee cups to their lips; Taylor covering her face with her hands; him biting into his muffin, paper case all up in his face. She’d insisted that she didn’t want to see them, yet she didn’t object when he pulled the Polaroids out from the case a little while later.

“Told you you’re beautiful,” he smiled as her head rested on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking one of the photos from his hands and smiling down at it for a bit. “You’re so full of life. I’ve always loved that about you.”

His heart skipped a beat at that.

“Thank you,” was all he could think to say.

Taylor gave the Polaroid back to him and he slipped them back into the pocket of the camera case, her hand finding his as soon as it was free. “Can we just kind of relax today?” she asked, resting her head against him again.

“Last night get to you, eh?” he teased, and she gave his hand a squeeze.

“Mmm, must’ve been all that kissing. What did you say? _Drunk in love_.”

“Fuck off.”

_“I’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking_ — _”_

Harry cut her off by starting to tickle her, the sound of her laughter filling the surrounding space. Taylor squirmed around as she fell onto her back, trying unsuccessfully to push his hands off of her. He loved her laugh and her smile and _her._

He only stilled his hands when he could no longer stop himself from leaning down and kissing her, delighted smiles on both of their lips.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“I thought I was a good kisser, actually.”

“Shut up.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sports weren’t exactly Taylor’s or Harry’s forte, but one thing Harry was decent at was badminton. If they were going to embarrass themselves in front of each other, he could at least minimise the damage — well, for him, at least. Why do you think the game had come to mind when he had been choosing things to bring along for them to do?

He had gone back to his car to retrieve the equipment he’d stored in the back after they had hung around for a while, laying in the dirt and contemplating what was easy and more entertaining than that. “It’ll be fun,” he’d said, “Good to get yourself moving.”

Now, they could barely manage more than a few passes between them even after playing for a good twenty minutes. They were improving, with their best at 19 back and forth plays. They were hardly going to be entering any tournaments with a high score like that.

“Why couldn’t you pick a game I’m good at?” Taylor whined after she missed another pass and had to collect the shuttlecock from way back behind her. “You were even better at Frisbee and that’s not even a _hard_ game.”

“'cause I’m a show off,” Harry smirked, watching unashamedly as she bent down and picked it up off the ground. He knew she could tell he had when she turned back around.

“No one likes a show off, Styles,” she reminded him, tossing another serve his way. They hit it between them a few times until Harry missed a high pass and Taylor laughed at him. 

“That was your shit pass,” he insisted.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a sore loser.”

“You’re so competitive.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, 'cause you’re shit at badminton.”

The next pass that reached her, Taylor hit with a lot more force than she had been using normally. With her racquet on an angle, it headed downwards rather than her usual high lobs.

At least they weren’t playing tennis, 'cause it would’ve hurt a whole lot more when the shuttlecock hit him in crotch if they’d been using a ball.

“Oh my god!” Taylor doubled over, her hand coming up to her mouth as she laughed loudly. “Get it? Shuttle- _cock_!”

Harry had to admit it was a pretty funny accident. Honestly, he’d hardly felt it through his shorts, but that didn’t stop him from taking the opportunity to fake discomfort and get some sympathy affection.

“Oh don’t look so pouty!” she said with another roll of her eyes — not exactly what he’d been going for.

“You’re not gonna apologise?”

“It was _funny!_ "

Staring at her for a few drawn out seconds, Harry dropped his racquet and Taylor was quick to do the same when she realised his intention. She sprinted off in the opposite direction with him following close behind. An “It was an accident!” thrown over her shoulder didn’t change his mind, and he caught her as she diverted her course around a tree. Arms around her stomach, Taylor squealed and squirmed as she tried to break herself free.

“Fine! I’m sorry!”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I don’t mean it!”

It wasn’t very nice to use his strength to his advantage, or to try to tickle her again, but we know Harry was a little shit sometimes. He beamed as Taylor couldn’t contain her laughter, wriggling around in his embrace as she stuttered ineffective “stop”’s. He only released his hold when she stepped on his foot purposely.

Looking thoroughly harassed when she turned to face him, she straightened her glasses and crossed her arms over her chest. “Meanie,” she said, sounding as much like a little kid as the pair of them appeared. Having her hair tied in two short bunches on either side of her head didn’t help, either.

“Sorry,” he grinned.

“Let’s not say sorry when we don’t mean it,” she proposed, right to jump nervously when Harry rested his hand on her waist as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Her eyes were gleaming when he pulled back. “You know how you said it’ll be good to get moving? Well I have a better idea that doesn’t involve running after a stupid ball.”

So that was how they ended up leaving their equipment outside the tent and retreating back inside for something they were both guaranteed to enjoy. For two people who didn’t voice their feelings for each other, they sure spent an awful lot of time all over each other. They could pass it off as making up for lost time, but honestly, it was a lot simpler than that. They wanted each other and they were finally in a situation where they could get just that. Wouldn’t you make the most of it if it were you?

They would’ve stayed like that a lot longer, smiles and tongues and not-so-subtle ass grabs (thanks Taylor), if it weren’t for the buzz of Harry’s phone. He ignored it as if it wasn’t happening right there beside the pillow, but Taylor was nice enough to reach for it to see who was calling.

“God, I can’t read without my glasses on. It’s Liam, I think?” she informed him as he started kissing her neck. He shrugged it off with a small grunt of I-don’t-care, letting it ring out in her hand. “Babe, he’s calling again. You should answer it.”

“But—”

“What if it’s important? I’ll still be here when you get back,” she reasoned, but sometimes when Harry wanted something, he could be terribly stubborn. They both could, so he shouldn’t have propped himself back up so quickly to look at her in a mix of shock horror when she just answered it herself. “Harry’s phone; Taylor speaking.”

“ _Hi,_ ” came the even more surprised reply from the other end.

“Sorry — Harry’s a bit distracted right now,” she said innocently, contrasting the smirk that appeared on her face as she looked up at Harry with her hand travelling down his back, fingers slipping under the waistband of his shorts. “I can get him to come to the phone, if you want.”

“That would be great,” Liam answered, sounding confused.

Moving his phone away from her, Taylor pretended to call out to him, all the while running her fingertips over his bum and squeezing his hip, which would’ve been even better without his boxers in the way but had him biting his lip to stop from groaning all the same. “ _Harry!_ Liam’s on the phone! No— no, Harry, leave the poor squirrel alone. He’s probably trying to find his _nuts_.”

Taylor was trying to suppress her giggles as Harry snatched the phone from her hand and reluctantly climbed off of her, mouthing “cheeky” at her before clambering his way out of the tent. He guessed that made up for all the tickling.

“Fucking cock block,” was the first thing Harry muttered as he wandered away from the tent for a bit of privacy, trying not to go too far in case he lost signal.

“Since when are you and Taylor seeing each other again?” Liam questioned. “Or was that a different Taylor?”

“No, that’s her. We, ahh, we met up, like, three days ago?”

“Where _are_ you?”

“Um, a camp ground.”

There was a pause as that sunk in, and Harry could hear a TV going in the background on Liam’s end. He heard another familiar voice, too.

“Is that Harry? Put him on speaker.” There was a crackle before the louder, enthusiastic greeting, “Harold! You’re missing a great game of FIFA. Liam’s losing miserably.”

“When don’t you win, Lou?” he chuckled. It was good to hear from his friends again, even if the timing wasn’t quite what he preferred.

“Now, I hear you’ve been sending some nonsense texts,” Louis said, taking over the phone call unsurprisingly. “Why do you have to mess with _our_ heads?”

“Didn’t think it was that hard to figure it out. If T wasn’t you, who was it going to be?” he countered. “And that one was all her.”

“Right, right. We all know you’re like a puppy waiting to chase after her — this was inevitable.” — _see,_ teasing — “What have you been up to?”

Harry knew there was no right way to answer that. “Well, um, we’re out camping in this, kind of, forest place. We’ve been hiking, went for a swim in this lake, made a bonfire—”

“Gotten a shag in?”

“Don’t start this.”

“Is that not why you went on this little field trip?”

_Kind of,_ but he wasn’t going to give Louis the satisfaction.

“No,” he insisted as convincingly as he could. “We’re friends.”

Louis actually laughed at that. “I don’t believe for a second that you two haven’t shown any interest in that. You’re stuck out in god knows where with no one else with you — there’s no one else, right? If _I_ got that kind of invitation, I’d assume you were making a rather shite attempt at getting in my pants, or you were plotting to kill me where no one would hear me scream. Which is it, Harold?”

_“Louis,”_ came the quieter warning from Liam. When Louis got going, he could be rather shite himself, but at least Liam was on Harry’s side. He knew Liam had always liked him and Taylor together. He seemed to understand it more.

“You know how hard it is to see some people,” he reminded him calmly. “We’re making it work.”

“I, for one, am happy for you,” Liam cut in first. “You both deserve a chance to get away from everything. Even if we were hoping you’d want to get over here early and join our FIFA tournament. We’ve already recruited Niall; Zayn doesn’t want to come.”

“'cause he knows he’s gonna get thrashed,” Louis quickly added.

“We’re heading back tomorrow night. I could find a flight the day after, if you really want.”

“What’s going to happen when you two come back to normal life?”

That was a question Harry had tried not to let get to him, one that he should’ve known Louis would ask. The truth was Harry didn’t know what would happen once they returned from their adventure. He was scared that they would leave it all behind, that he would go back on tour and Taylor would start her new album circuit as if none of it had happened, no matter what she’d told him before they had fallen asleep the night before. They would stay friends — he didn’t doubt that — but he wondered if that was _all_ they were destined to be.

So he just shrugged, “We haven’t really talked about it,” which, of course, wasn’t good enough.

“Harry, you can’t _not_ talk about it,” Louis insisted. “What happens if you come back and she tells you whatever you’ve done was just a fling, or if she doesn’t and you two get serious and she starts getting death threats again?”

It was a good point. Harry knew Louis wasn’t out of line in acknowledging it, but that didn’t stop him from getting a little bit pissed. He was meant to be his friend who was _happy_ for him, not pointing out things that made him feel the opposite.

“If you lot can manage it, so can I,” he declared, impulsively hanging up before either of them had a chance to object. So much for a nice catch-up chat with his band mates.

When Harry returned to the tent, Taylor was sitting up with her glasses back on and her hair let down, munching on some M&M’s she’d found. She looked up at him, smile fading when their eyes met.

“Uh oh, now you’re the one with the sad face.” Her tone was light, but he could tell she was worried. “What’d he say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he lied as he sat down, knee bumping against hers. “They don’t know what they’re on about.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Not now.”

Harry knew Taylor hated it when he shut her out like that. He knew he should just get the conversation over and done with, but he didn’t want to make things uncomfortable if it didn’t go as he hoped. An awkward drive home was better than an awkward day waiting for the chance to escape.

Taylor tilted her head back and tried not very successfully to balance an M&M on top of the lens of her glasses. She looked as weird as it sounds. 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Trying to make you laugh.”

Giving up on her balancing attempt, Taylor tossed the M&M in the air and managed to succeed in her goal. Instead of landing in her open mouth, the chocolate bounced off her glasses and landed on the blankets in front of her, sending her into laughter with him.

“Well that wasn’t the plan!” she grinned, searching for the wayward ball. She popped it in her mouth, leaning in to kiss him and slipping it into his on her tongue as their lips parted. He beamed at her when she pulled back.

“I thought you didn’t like that.”

“I didn’t like your gross chewing gum,” she clarified, wrinkling her nose at the memory of his gum ending up in her mouth after a make out session one afternoon many months ago. “Chocolate’s fine.”

So they started a silly game where Taylor sat on Harry’s lap, the pair of them trading M&M’s in each other’s mouths. Basically it was an inefficient way to eat the chocolate, but it meant they got to spend more time kissing so neither of them complained. How could they when they were fighting to get the M&M’s in their multi-coloured mouths just as they started to melt? It played on their competitive streaks, though you couldn’t really say their decision to take their shirts off was anything to do with that. That was a whole other thing the game brought out.

There was laughter and “stop taking it all”’s between each round and Harry almost forgot all about the conversation he’d had with Liam and Louis. Almost.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Their game fell apart when Harry almost choked on an M&M that had rolled too far back on his tongue. He’d argued that she could’ve killed him with that, and Taylor had rolled her eyes and made it up to him by showering his face in kisses. At one point Taylor was lying on top of him with her head buried in his neck and she sighed, “I’ve missed you so much,” which had refilled his bubble of hope. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed spending the day lazing around with Taylor, kissing and talking in their underwear, until he finally had it back.

By the time there was a call from outside, Harry felt all relaxed and loved and partly like a whole other reunion was quite possible as she rocked her hips against his. It took them a moment to register that the voice they’d heard was actually real and coming from just outside their tent. Then Taylor sat up quickly and they shot each other wide eyed glances.

“What do we do?” she mouthed, and he just shook his head. Neither of them was in presentable shape, as if that were their only worry. _They weren’t alone anymore_.

“Is anyone there?” came a woman’s voice outside. _Could she see shadows inside?_

“Um, hang on,” Harry called back hesitantly. Taylor climbed off of him and helped him back into his clothes silently, giving his hair a ruffle and him a small good luck smile. He was going to need it.

When Harry climbed out of the tent, he saw a worried mother looking over her shoulder impatiently. He apologised for keeping her waiting, making up an excuse that he’d been taking an afternoon nap. That could cover his messy hair; there wasn’t anything he could do about the redness of his lips.

The woman’s concern didn’t lie with whether or not Harry had been doing anything gossip-worthy with someone in the tent. “Sorry to bother you, but have you got any first aid?” she asked hurriedly. “My daughter’s hurt herself in the lake, but we didn’t bring anything with us. We saw your tent on the way and thought you might be the quicker option.”

“Yeah. Yeah, course I’ll come help,” Harry smiled at her, relieved that it was any easy request. Well, _probably._

He collected the kit from back in the tent, mouthing “be right back” at Taylor who had curled herself up in a protective ball, and set off with the woman. He guessed she was maybe in her forties, and as they walked along and made small talk he gathered she didn’t recognise him. Or if she did, she was just treating him like another adult.

The daughter, however, knew exactly who he was. Tear stained cheeks and a bloody leg, the six year old’s jaw dropped when they approached her and her father sitting by the edge of the lake. The slightly older boy still splashing around didn’t pay any attention. At least neither of them was old enough to be posting the encounter all over Twitter. They’d be lucky if anyone believed them when they got back to school.

“What’ve you done to yourself, eh?” he asked with a friendly smile, even though her mother had explained on the walk over. A trip not unlike Taylor’s had made a cut in her leg and scraped her arms, and had resulted in lots of blood and lots of tears.

The girl looked up at him as he kneeled down beside her, mouth still open wide. “I-I fell,” she eventually managed to get out. “What are you doing here?”

“Coming to fix you up, of course.” He sounded cheery, a nice sort of distraction as he started going through the first aid kit, picking out another bandage and the antiseptic cream. “Have you got any water?” he asked the parents, who, really, could’ve been doing this themselves instead of standing around watching their daughter’s mind explode.

With a warning of “It might sting a bit”, Harry poured the water bottle the mother had given him over the girl’s leg, using the corner of the bandage to help clean up the rest of the blood that didn’t wash away. “What’s your name, love?” he asked her as he picked up the cream and unscrewed the lid.

“Chloe,” she answered shyly.

He glanced up at her round eyes that had never averted since landing on him in the flesh. “Chloe, can you be brave for me? This is gonna hurt.”

She couldn’t say no to Doctor Styles, and to her credit, she didn’t voice her discomfort as he dabbed some cream on her cut, only squirmed around and whined like she might cry again. He smiled at her reassuringly and tied the bandage around her tiny leg carefully, trying not to hurt her any more.

“My friend cut their knee like yours,” he told her, conscious of his phrasing so as not to give too much away. “Their’s was okay after a day 'cause they were brave.”

“I’m brave,” she whispered, and Harry nodded eagerly before giving her a hug. She held onto him tightly, small arms clinging around his neck in the embrace she had only dreamed of. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, giving her one last squeeze.

Getting a stunned-into-silence Chloe to promise to take care of herself and accepting surprised thanks from her parents, Harry headed off back to the tent happily. He’d always been good with kids; of all the scenarios that could’ve played out with the stranger interruption, he was glad it was that. The thought of returning to Taylor was even more reason to have him grinning as he walked between the trees.

Of all the ideas that ran through his head, Harry wasn’t expecting to climb inside the tent to find Taylor sitting with her legs crossed and a folded piece of paper tucked under her bra strap. He immediately recognised the spark in her eyes. He’d seen it countless nights before in their most private moments.

“Take it,” she challenged quietly once he’d set the first aid kit back with their things.

Harry wriggled his way over to sit in front of her, her eyes watching him intensely as he carefully took the handwritten note and took his time unfolding it.

 

_Use your hands in my spare time_

_We’ve got one thing in common —_

_It’s this tongue of mine_

 

He recognised the lines instantaneously, a smirk creeping up on his face as he looked back up to meet her expecting eyes.

“I’m not trying to stop you, love,” he sang slowly, leaning closer as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But if we’re gonna do anything we might as well just fuck.”

Taylor almost closed the gap, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “Please?”

Harry set the note aside and moved his hands to her small waist. “You asked so nicely.”

“I wanted you to hear that song and think of me.”

And as she got his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, Harry knew there was no fucking way he was ever going to stop picturing this.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Despite the obvious, they didn’t jump straight into each other’s pants with The 1975 playing as a backing track to their intimacy. They drew it out over the afternoon and evening, picking up their kissing/talking/cuddling routine where they’d left off until they got hungry later. There was no rush, not now they knew that they were both into it. (They could’ve guessed, honestly, but at least now they had sort of admitted it.)

Their dinner options were limited, but at least they had rebuilt their bonfire for more of an atmosphere. They munched on salad sandwiches as they sat on opposite sides of the fire, the most space they had between them in hours. They sent each other flirty glances through the flames, and Harry could practically see Taylor’s mind ticking over with creativity.

“There has to be a word for it,” she vowed, setting her half-eaten sandwich down on her lap.

“A word for what?” he asked through a mouthful of his own.

_“This,”_ she said, waving her hands around in front of her. “There’s got to be a word for what this feels like.”

Harry didn’t dare say the word that immediately came to mind.

“Maybe try putting together more than one?” he suggested safely.

“But I swear there has to be _one_.”

Taylor looked intently at the fire as if it was going to spell out the answer in its orange glow. He knew better than to distract her when she got like this; he was the same sometimes. She would figure out what she wanted to say and rush off to scribble it in her notebook or make a memo on her phone. She would start her next masterpiece with him right there and it would mean the world to him.

After a while of silence she appeared to give up, though he knew Taylor wasn’t one to do so easily. She commented on the clear night and their conversation transitioned from the weather to animals to what would be the best way to die. (Harry argued that a quick shot to the chest would be alright, while Taylor stood by drifting off peacefully in your sleep. Harry had gone on to suggest doing body shots again, which she just rolled her eyes at.)

They brought out the marshmallows later and tried to be a bit more successful than last time. Taylor had figured out the trick after only a few goes at roasting, but Harry was still always determined to get it really well done and was constantly disappointed to watch his marshmallow fall into the flames. Seriously, the amount of marshmallows he had wasted by now was getting ridiculous. She tried to teach him how to get it in the perfect state before it burnt and fell off the stick, but he was a stubborn student. It wasn’t until he had set one alight — _again_ — that he thought it might be best to listen to her.

“See, you put your stick in like this,” Taylor explained from her spot now beside him, Harry stifling a giggle as she held her marshmallow-topped stick above the fire. “Don’t put it too close to the flames — that’s how you burn it. Twist it around a bit — not too _close_ ; are you even listening?”

Harry lifted his marshmallow obediently, grinning. “’m a bit distracted.”

“Harry, as flattered as I am that being around me renders you unable to perform simple tasks, you’re wasting perfectly good marshmallows that I could be eating.”

He watched as she plucked her sufficiently brown marshmallow off her stick and parted her lips to take a bite. He barely remembered to take his own off, which would’ve earned him another “Oh my god, _Harry._ ”

“Think you can manage grabbing the cookies?” she asked, obviously aware of his staring. “I wanna make s'mores.”

That was something he could still do despite his major heart eyes, though when he returned he felt his heart melt just as much as his failed marshmallows had. He almost just blurted out the simple yet complicated word he knew — he _knew_ — was the one she had been looking for. He almost just admitted how he had felt for as long as he could remember because seeing Taylor sitting in the glow of the fire, her sweet face illuminated and looking the kind of happy she always wanted, was so _breathtaking_ he couldn’t picture a better moment.

She could tell he wasn’t looking at her the same when he sat back down next to her, her hand resting on his knee and her head tilting slightly as she said, “What?”

Harry relied on his kiss telling her instead, though he knew it wasn’t nearly the same.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

While he wasn’t that great at roasting the marshmallows, Harry could make a decent s'more. (Yes, he was aware that it wasn’t hard to put a marshmallow in between two cookies, but Taylor praised him for his efforts so he felt pretty darn good.)

They ate until they ran out of the two essential ingredients, which was a little disappointing but sure was satisfying.

“So, I had an idea of what we could do tomorrow,” Taylor said as she licked her fingers clean after her last s'more. “A scavenger hunt.”

Harry nodded, intrigued. “How would it work?”

_“Well,”_ she said, clearly having already thought it through. “We could make a list of things we have to find now, and then tomorrow we have a race to see who can find them all first. Whoever makes it back here first is the winner.”

“Is there a prize?”

Taylor smirked slightly. “There can be.”

“You’re on,” he grinned.

Taylor grabbed the torch, her notebook and pen from the tent and turned to a blank page, printing “Scavenger Hunt” at the top of the page with an underline. They started brainstorming ideas, from spotting five birds to collecting six different types of leaves to carving their initials in a tree (with photographic evidence, of course). They got a bit off track, as they always seemed to.

“How about we find some insects?” Harry suggested.

“I am _not_ catching any insects,” Taylor said firmly, shaking her head at the thought. “Nuh uh.”

“We don’t have to catch them, just see them. Like, count off some spiders, bees,” he smiled as she shuddered, adding, “stick insects, grasshoppers—”

“Remember that time you ate one?”

How could he forget? He’d discovered the real truth of deep fried food — if it wasn’t something you would consider eating if it wasn’t deep fried, you shouldn’t eat it even if it is. But, this _was_ Harry we’re talking about here, so it’s hardly all that surprising that he just gave the deep fried grasshopper presented before him during their seven hour live stream a try. He was surprised _she_ remembered.

“It tasted like shit,” he said bluntly, though he still smiled at the memory. “I told you that ages ago.”

She shrugged, smiling back cheekily. “I found the video online. That drink you tried looked _delicious_.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Mmm, it was certainly something.”

“What if we, like, had our own live stream?” she proposed, eyes lighting up as they always did when she started building on an idea. “Not like a proper live stream, obviously — we don’t want random people watching us. But, like, you know how we Face Time sometimes? Imagine doing that for a whole day.”

“Depends what kind of day it was. Like it’d be different if we weren’t on tour or anything. Might not be as exciting.”

“What, you don’t _want_ to watch me going to the bathroom?” Taylor laughed, resting her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her waist. “I would’ve thought you would take any chance to watch me take a shower. I _know_ you would.”

He grinned, “I’d rather be joining you,” and turned to kiss her, her hand resting on his jaw.

“Seriously though,” she said as they broke away. “A day of Face Timing is a thing we should do.”

“Sure, love. Just pick a date and we’ll do it.”

“It’ll be like a date, won’t it?” she gasped, moving her hands to his thigh and looking at him with sudden excitement. “We could have dinner together! Like we’ll pick a dish, we both make it, then we can sit at the table with our phones or laptops or whatever across from us and it’ll be like we’re actually having dinner together! Doesn’t that sound fun? We could even make it all romantic, like with candles and flowers — actually, I think Olivia has a thing for flowers, so maybe not. But the candles are a definite, and we have to have a dessert. Maybe like a mousse? I’d say chocolate fondue but I’d rather eat that actually _with_ you, 'cause then we can do the whole feeding each other thing and kissing you would taste like chocolate and we could lay on your couch and watch movies until we fall asleep and— Why are you looking at me like that? Is it— Oh god, I’m going a little overboard, aren’t I?”

The entire time she was contemplating all this, Taylor wore a bright smile he hadn’t seen in a long time. A romantic at heart, things like this made her light up like the sun and Harry wanted nothing more than to be the reason she felt like that all the time. He was beaming at her with something in his eyes he didn’t even realise, like her happiness was radiating out of her and sinking its way into his veins. _He_ wanted to feel like this forever.

Harry was laughing at how much he completely adored the girl beside him when the words just slipped out of his mouth.

“I love you.”

The fire crackled in a kind of “YESSSSSS HARRY FINALLY” way but neither of them noticed. They were too busy staring at each other with wide eyes.

“What?”

“I love you.”

Even though she was looking at him in wonder, Harry’s confidence had quickly diminished. He hadn’t meant to tell her, let alone _twice_ , and he was terrified he’d pushed the boundary. He had long convinced himself she wouldn’t return the feeling but she sure wasn’t looking at him now like she wanted to run away as fast as she could.

No, Taylor’s reaction started with a quick check she’d heard him correctly, then lots of wonderstruck (hehehe) staring with a gasp that had her hands moving up to rest over her heart like they were in the pinnacle part of some cheesy movie. She seemed to realise this, as her eyes widened and she quickly moved her hands back down, laughing at herself. “I love you, too,” she grinned, eyes sparkling. He hadn’t imagined that.

Harry leaned in for a kiss that was all smiles and bodies shifting to hold each other as close as they could and _love_. Harry kissed Taylor like her loved her more than ever and was overjoyed that she was kissing him the same right back.

They kissed long and passionate, breathless when they broke apart and met each other’s eyes in awe.

“So,” Taylor sighed, smiling hopefully, “is that a yes to the date?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The mention of the L-word hadn’t done a whole lot to change them. If anything, they sat by their burning fire a little closer and held each other’s gaze for a little longer. Harry didn’t feel like he was a ticking “I love you” time bomb anymore and Taylor was looking at him like he had found the key to perpetual happiness. Maybe he had.

There was still a lot to be said, though. There were things lying between them calling out to be discussed, but first, they were going to enjoy themselves. After everything they’d been through since they first met, they deserved to relish in their newly admitted romance for as long as possible. (Taylor was already dreaming up other potential date ideas, like taking him home to chill with the cats and whisking him off for a beach retreat, not that she told him any of that yet.)

They finished their list in between elated distractions of kisses and giggles, eventually putting out the fire and wriggling into the tent for their last night.

“Wanna play cards?” Taylor asked as she got herself comfortable sitting down, which was how they went through a few uninteresting rounds of Go Fish until they switched the deck for their nightmarish UNO. It wasn’t as bad as the night before — Harry was still unlucky and Taylor as cocky as ever. But they dismissed their annoyance over sneaky draw fours and smart use of skips with light-hearted teasing and playful pushes. It still ended with Harry throwing his cards in defeat, but Taylor laughed as he tackled her onto her back in “revenge”. If revenge involved being pinned down and receiving lots of kisses to her cheek and down her neck, then Taylor wanted all the revenge she could get.

With her legs wrapping around his waist, they melted into the glorious rhythm of the day (which, for the record, was fucking _brilliant_ ; who knew relaxing around and making out could be that good? (literally everyone, but they needed a bit of a reminder)). It wasn’t quite the same as before, now with their feelings heightened and free to fly as they wanted. They weren’t holding back anything anymore.

Taylor was the first to break their very long and tongue-heavy kiss. “Harry,” she sighed, her hands still wandering up and down his back gently. “Do you… you know…” She smiled at him shyly, which seemed a bit ridiculous considering, but he thought it was lovely and gave her a couple of quick kisses in reply.

When he climbed off her, Harry praised the higher powers that had sent him into the shelf and made him buy the box of condoms the previous day. He didn’t throw the word “fate” around lightly, and it was probably just his bubbling happiness talking, but he swiped one out of the box and kissed his cross necklace all the same.

Harry turned back to find Taylor sitting up and grinning in anticipation, all doubts of him being the only one who had been fantasizing this reunion vanishing. She quickly pulled him into another kiss, hands cupping his face as his arms wrapped back around her. They kissed eagerly until their lips felt numb for god knows how many times that day, breaking apart when Taylor tugged at the hem of his shirt insistently. She pulled it off him and took no shame in admiring him in the dim light of the lantern they had switched on.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly when she tilted her head and smiled.

“You should wear your shirt off more often,” she admitted, laughing as her fingers trailed lightly along his collarbone. “Maybe not for a little while after this,” she decided when she moved her hand down to run over the mark she’d already left on him.

Grinning, Harry got her shirt off her too and after another kiss things moved a bit faster. They helped each other out of their pants and let their hands wander over each other’s bodies as they pleased while their lips met again. Harry was sliding his hand up her waist to go for that touch of her breast he’d been dying to do when Taylor laid back and pulled him on top of her, which turned out not as smooth as it should’ve been since he slipped at the unexpected change in position and ended up pushing up her bra more than anything. She laughed without judgement, just as she always did whenever things didn’t go perfectly. He remembered having to awkwardly unhook his watch from her clothes whenever it got stuck on the fabric and the time she smacked her head on the headboard of the bed and she couldn’t stop laughing because of how un-sexy it looked. He loved that she didn’t take herself too seriously.

“Just take it off, babe,” she smiled, arching her back to help him reach behind to undo the clasp. He managed to get it off her without too much effort, and she gave a moan as soon as his hands were on her. _“Babe.”_

Harry enjoyed nothing quite like getting a girl off, especially Taylor. He revelled in every reaction he got from every touch of her body. Her moans and canted hips and panted “babe”’s encouraged him endlessly, making him want to please her even more. It had never felt like she was doing it to put on a show for him, either; everything from Taylor was genuine, from her quieter focus on the feeling of him to her louder, more insistent whines. It meant more to him than she knew that he was the one to make her feel this way.

Taylor’s lips were parted and her eyes closed as he massaged each of her breasts. She wrapped her legs back around his waist and Harry started kissing her jaw as his thumbs circled over her nipples. They hardened under his touch, and as he kissed her down her neck and along her shoulder her soft moans switched to a sharp gasp when he moved down to replace his thumb with his mouth. He pressed kisses all over her breast and flicked his tongue against her firm nipple, repeating his actions on her other until she tugged at his hair and pulled him up into a desperate kiss.

“Missed you so— _oh_ —”

Taylor gasped again when Harry ran his hand down her side and in between their bodies in a smooth movement to rub her through her underwear. Harry could barely believe it as she untangled her legs from around him and let him slip the fabric off so she was lying completely bare before him. His eyes wandered her every curve, trying to imprint the memory fresh in his head in case this was all they were going to have. She caught on, her own eyes opening and smiling at him. He reached for her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

Harry still kept hold of her hand as he went down on her. He liked the connection, one hand in hers and the other on her thigh. He lapped his tongue over her lazily, familiarizing himself with her taste and her reactions again. He still remembered the first time she gave him the honour of going between her legs; the memory of her back arching and come smearing all around his mouth never failed to get him off. It had his dick pressing hard against the blankets now but he wasn’t about to stop to do anything about it.

With Taylor’s fingers slipped in his hair, she tugged rhythmically to his movements. Her sounds were gentle, growing more frequent the longer his tongue worked her plush opening. Harry started sucking down on her clit fervently and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, her muscles tensing. The moan that escaped as her legs twitched and she released all over his tongue was so _wow_ that it had Harry blurting pre-come in his boxers. Taylor was trying to catch her breath as he licked her out and moved back up to kiss her, and immediately she pulled his underwear down and wrapped her hand around him.

_“Fuck,”_ he groaned softly, and she smirked back a cheeky, “You’re telling me.”

Harry had never loved someone as completely as he did Taylor.

Finding his rhythm quickly after sliding into her, Harry kept it slow. After an entire year of dreaming about doing this again, he could easily fuck her senseless, but that wasn’t how he wanted to go. He —deep breath — wanted to properly make love to her.

He’d thought about it before, considered how many times he’d had sex for sex and sex for love. He didn’t even really like the term “making love”; it seemed far too cheesy rather than the romantic act it was meant to be. He cursed himself for thinking it, when all he really wanted was to make her _feel_ loved. In this very moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to make every inch of Taylor feel loved, to work it into her veins and spread it all throughout her body. Even if they left here with nothing else, Harry wanted to fill her up with all his love so she had something to hold onto when she needed it most. Harry wanted Taylor to know he was all hers.

The tent was soon filled with the sound of their soft moans. They kissed each other’s lips and down their necks, Taylor biting down on his shoulder and getting a low groan out of Harry. With her legs wrapped around him again and his elbows propping him up just enough not to crush her with his weight, they were as close as they could get, yet she still tried to pull him closer as her fingers ran up and down his back and through his hair. He told her that — “Close as we can, baby” — and she challenged him, “You’re so— you can get deeper, baby— Oh you’re so _good_ —”

Harry adjusted his position slightly and re-angled his thrusts, rewarded by her louder moans.

“Yeah— yeah, babe, like that— so—”

“Wanted to— wanted to do this for ages—”

“Mhmm—”

“You’re— fuck you’re gorgeous— I love you so much—”

Taylor pulled him into a wet kiss that muffled both their sounds.

“Say it again—”

“I love you— I love everything— you’re so beautiful— and kind— and confident and sexy— and talented— god, _Taylor_ —”

She laughed, shaking her head briefly. “You’re amazing— you should— I lo— _oh_ — oh _fuck,_ Harry—”

Her moans grew desperate as Harry found the spot that got her every time, one hand clutching at his curls and the other digging her short nails into his back. He drew it out as long as he could manage, until neither of them was able to contain themselves. Taylor held onto him tightly as he reached it for the last time and she was overcome with ecstasy, her back arching and lips parting in a gorgeous moan. Harry joined her a fraction of a moment later, the pair of them panting and refusing to break apart.

Neither of them had felt this incredible in what seemed like forever and they were nowhere near ready to let it pass. They never would, if it were possible.

Even as their breaths evened out, they held each other for a long time, Harry’s head buried in the crook of her neck and Taylor’s fingers tracing circles on his back.

She was the first one to break the comfortable silence that had descended inside the tent. “Limerence,” she whispered, repeating the word again when he made a “huh” kind of noise. “The word I was looking for. It’s... I think it’s close.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Limerence: the state of being infatuated with another person. Desire to have one’s feelings reciprocated.”

Harry smiled. “I like it too.”

“I like you.”

“I like you more.”

“Nuh uh.”

Taylor giggled as he pressed more kisses to her neck, pushing him away playfully. They grinned at each other and she ran her hand through her own hair.

“We did a bad thing,” she said, and if she weren’t laughing Harry would’ve thought she was already regretting it.

“We’re awfully good at the bad thing,” he smirked slightly at her.

“ _Hello_ , Harry cocky Styles. I wondered when you’d come out,” she teased, and he shook his head with a laugh. 

“Watch your wording.”

“I will put my clothes back on,” she threatened, laughing again as he raised his hands in surrender. She watched him as he turned and sorted himself out, finding their bag of rubbish to toss the condom in and a bottle of water to take a sip from, all the while an affectionate smile permanently etched on her face. Harry’s heart had never felt so warm.

They both climbed under the blankets before Harry switched off the last lantern, their bodies intertwining until they couldn’t tell where they started and the other began. Taylor’s head rested against his chest so she could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing and the beat of his heart. His hand rested on her back so he could feel the same, both of them focusing on the life running through their bodies, on the simple intimacy of embracing each other after sharing all of themselves.

Taylor whispered the word again — “ _Limerence_ ” — almost inaudibly and shortly after her breaths were soft and even. Harry smiled as he lightly kissed her hair a couple of times.

“Sweet dreams, love,” he whispered back, and she nuzzled her head against him as if she were responding.

Harry had never felt more alive.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry woke abruptly to the sound of a high pitched scream. It was still dark and his eyes struggled at first to adjust to the dim light coming from a lantern behind him.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled sleepily, looking up at a shadowy Taylor with the blanket held up around her chest.

“I-I heard noises, a-and there— there was a spider, and—”

Harry held out his arms as she stammered to explain, and she sunk back down into his embrace like a child looking for protection after waking from a nightmare. He could feel her heart racing.

“There was a spider on our tent, Harry,” she repeated with regained eloquence, voice small and scared. “It fell right down the side.”

“’s alright. ’s gone now,” he assured her, eyes closing again.

“What if it comes inside?”

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know—” Taylor jumped at a rustling sound outside, whining, “Something keeps doing that.”

“’s probably nothing,” he told her, really wanting to just get back to sleep now that he knew it wasn’t a dire emergency. He wasn’t a fan of nightly interruptions.

Taylor gave another whine when the noise started up again almost immediately after Harry spoke, and he sighed, “Do you want me to go check?”

“No!” She held onto him tighter. “You’ll die and I’ll be stuck here forever.”

“’m not gonna die. ’s probably just a bird or something.”

“It’s night time Harry, birds are asleep!”

 _Lucky sods,_ he thought, but wisely kept to himself. “Then a squirrel. Just—”

“Squirrels can claw your eyes out!”

When it was evident Taylor wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep until her nerves had been put at ease, Harry sighed and climbed out from under the covers. He grabbed the glowing lantern and stuck his head out the tent, blinking a couple times to readjust his eyes. The light didn’t extend very far out and dark shadows were mostly all he could see, so he waited a minute to see whether or not he could pick up any movement.

“There’s nothing here, Taylor,” he declared, though just as the words came out of his mouth something bounded through the pool of light. He swore loudly in surprise, startling the creature. He fumbled to zip the tent back up quickly without stopping to watch the source of their disturbance run away.

“What was it?” Taylor asked nervously as he sat back staring at the closed opening to the tent.

“Um, a cat, I think,” Harry said, scratching his head. “I think it’s gone now.”

“I didn’t know there were cats out here.”

“Wild ones, yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment or so, until Taylor nudged him with her knee to get his attention. “I’m sorry for waking you,” she apologised quietly.

“’s alright, love.” He gave her a small smile and joined her back under the blankets, switching off the lantern and descending the tent back into darkness. “You didn’t know what it was.”

“It was the spider that freaked me out,” she said, cuddling back up to him gladly. He wasn’t as warm after getting up still completely naked from earlier holy shit.

“I know, love. Get some sleep now, okay?”

“Can I have some water first?”

“Um—” Harry fumbled around the pile blindly, eventually having to admit defeat and pull away from her to look properly with the lantern back on. He found her an almost empty bottle and watched her sip at it carefully. Her hair sat tangled around her face and he tried his hardest to imprint the image of her propped up on her elbow with the bottle to her lips like a simple sexy advert in his memory for good.

When she put the lid back on and handed it back, Harry tossed it back where he found it and switched off the lantern for the last time. They fell back into each other easily, and Harry slipped his hand up into her hair. She sighed softly as he massaged her head with his fingers to help relax her again, and the last thing he could recall before he drifted back off were light kisses pressed to his chest and a quiet “thank you.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

When Harry woke up again later, he wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming or if he really had a boob in the face. He smirked lazily as he shifted onto his back to get a better view. Yeah, definitely real life.

“Morning, baby,” he greeted, receiving a cheery “Morning!” back from Taylor, who was reaching across him for something from their pile. He was blessed with this wonderful view of her breasts for a good while as she rummaged around, and even when she found what she was looking for he was still just as lucky as she swung her leg over and sat up on top of him, straddling his waist with his half hard cock standing against her ass.

“I think you’ve got this kind of sixth sense,” Taylor mused as she cracked open the punnet of strawberries in her hands they were yet to finish. “All this time I’ve been awake and you hardly stirred, but as soon as I lean over you and you get a nice view, you wake up.”

“I could feel it in my heart,” he grinned, holding his hands up to his chest theatrically.

“That is _not_ where you felt it,” she said factually, wiggling her hips back against him and laughing. She picked a strawberry from the small container and took a bite from the end. By this point Harry was over trying to hold back, and maybe it was just the love-struck haze he was in or maybe she was actually eating the strawberry sensually. Either way, it sure had him wishing her lips were in a different place.

It was as if she could tell he was thinking of the sort, as she smiled and she looked down at him, “Never in a million years did I think I’d ever be sitting naked on Harry Styles, eating strawberries in a tent in the middle of a forest.”

“Never in a million years did _I_ think _I’d_ ever have Taylor Swift sitting naked on top me, eating strawberries in a tent in the middle of a forest,” he grinned back at her, hands moving to rest on her thighs. He wondered if she often craved this freedom to do whatever the fuck she wished, too. “You know the one thing that would make this better?”

“If you say me riding you, I will force you to eat the leafy part of this strawberry,” she threatened with a confident smile, the strawberry in question held up between her thumb and forefinger as she put the rest down beside them.

Harry’s grin turned guilty. “You wouldn’t.”

Taylor raised her eyebrows and held his gaze for a few seconds before she quickly leaned forward, thrusting the strawberry towards his mouth. “Eat it!” she demanded as he pressed his lips shut tightly. She poked him to try to get him to open his mouth, each stab of her finger coming with a chanting, “Eat it.”

When he wouldn’t budge, Taylor wiped the half-eaten strawberry down the side of his face, which he was pretty sure was actually only so she had an excuse to lick his jaw. She whispered “Eat it” again when she neared his ear, but Harry still wasn’t going to give in. He didn’t want that in his mouth. But he should’ve known she wasn’t going to relent until she got her way.

Taylor’s winning tactic came as a tickle under the arm, which, to be fair, he completely deserved as payback for all the tickling he’d done to her the day before. He didn’t think he deserved the top of the strawberry to be plopped in his mouth when he couldn’t contain his laughter, though. Sure the bit of juice was nice, but there’s a reason you don’t eat the leaves. Leaves taste like shit.

Harry spat it out not at all charmingly as soon as he got the chance, and Taylor gave him a disapproving frown. “Yuck! You’re so gross.”

“ _You_ put that in _my_ mouth; _you’re_ gross,” he said, graceful enough to pick up the spit-covered mess and put it back in the plastic box with the remaining strawberries. She still gave him a rather disgusted look, despite fully intending to put the tops of the fruit she ate back in there too.

“Do you want anything to eat?” she asked, brushing off what she’d just done as she got back to her breakfast.

“You,” Harry answered cheekily, and she reached forward and pinched his nipple as punishment. _“Oww!”_

“If you can last as long as you have without sleeping with me, you can wait until after breakfast,” she decided, dismissing his pain and the opening of his mouth to protest with a wave of her hand. “I understand that it’s a difficult feat. I am, undoubtedly, amazing, and me sitting right here is a thing of dreams, but I believe in the power of your—”

“I swear to god, Taylor—”

“Don’t interrupt my speech,” she chastised. “Good things come to boys who wait, not boys who butt in to say something stupid.”

Taylor smirked down at him as she bit into another strawberry and Harry shook his head, smile on his face. “ _Excuse_ me, but I—” he said, to which she threw up her hands dramatically.

“I give up! I tell you you’re about to get laid if you wait, and all you do is correct my wording. You’re impossible.”

Harry laughed, hands settling back on her thighs. She always used to tell him he was impossible; he knew it was in an affectionate way because it always came with a smile playing on her lips. They wouldn’t be them if they didn’t come with some friendly teasing.

“I would like some Coco Pops, please,” he requested politely, and she pointed to the pile.

“Get it yourself.”

For a moment he was afraid he’d actually pissed her off, but when he sat up and she held her breath as she stared at his lips, the thought left his mind. All he registered was how fucking close they were despite his fears that he would never have this again, and that she was cupping either side of his face and leaning in to press her lips to his in a soft kiss that tasted sweet and addictive. Harry never wanted to leave this spot, and if it weren’t for Taylor throwing all care about her argument from only minutes ago he wouldn’t have pulled away from her until long after his lips were numb.

They got their morning dose of each other’s affection in a gorgeous display of grinding and groaning that made Harry wonder how he’d ever managed to go so long without Taylor’s hands on his shoulders and bouncing breasts as she rode him with all her confidence. Honestly, Harry had always struggled containing himself when they did it so close like this, but even more so now when he realised he’d forgotten how completely fucking hot it was when she took control with these little grunts every time she sat all the way down on him. Even as he came earlier than he wanted to, Taylor kept up her quickened pace until she reached that point too, back arching in his embrace as she halted abruptly with a loud _“fuck!”_ Harry rubbed her back until she opened her eyes again, which were gleaming as she started to laugh. That set him off, and soon they were giggling idiots holding onto each other like they wanted no one else in the world.

“I really did want that,” Taylor confessed, eyes crinkling at the corners as she beamed at him.

“You cheeky minx,” Harry teased with a chuckle, making her laugh again as he pressed kisses down her neck. “Leading me on like I’m the only horny one here.”

“You’re not. I promise you’re not,” she reassured him. He already knew that — he could feel it when she’d been sitting on his bare skin, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. She started playing with his messy hair, twisting curls around her finger and sighing wistfully, “I wanna take you home and never let you go.”

Harry wanted that too. He wanted to be able to escape into simplicity, to have every day be like these past few. He wanted it in even the platonic way, but it was much easier to slide on a smirk and give a playful nip of her earlobe than it was to explain just how much he adored everything about her.

“Cheeky minx trying to steal me away,” he teased. “Are you going to tie me down, baby?”

“Oh you know it, babe. I’ll bring out all the strapping and we’ll see how long you can handle me,” she said, going along with it. Taylor took a lock of his hair in each hand and swung them loosely as she started singing, _“Sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me; na na na na na, come on—”_

Harry couldn’t help his laugh, the contrast between the young bop of her head in time to her singing and the words coming out of her mouth a fascinating confusion he had always cherished.

“I love you,” he said for the first time in the light of day, revelling in her delighted grin and the kiss on the cheek he received.

“I love you too, Harry.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Breakfast eventually got eaten, but not without the interruptions of kisses and laughter. Harry’s favourite was when Taylor balanced two strawberries carefully on top of his nipples, grinning immaturely at her work before she — _yes_ — actually ate them off his chest. She’d laughed, teasing him about how he was going to have a permanent hard-on all day if how they were already going was any indication. Oh what fun they were yet to have.

Surprisingly, it was Harry who insisted that they do the scavenger hunt like they’d planned instead of staying inside and getting as much of each other as they could while they had the chance. Taylor seemed perfectly happy with the idea of the latter, which had Harry wondering just how much she had missed all this. The picture that formed in his head was so wildly inappropriate that he stared at her with darkened eyes and a hardened dick, too embarrassed to ask when she raised her eyebrow questioningly.

Needless to say, it took them longer than it should’ve to get dressed when Taylor was going around licking her hand and jerking him off to make herself and the blankets they were sitting on a sticky mess. Harry was hardly much better, what with his suggestion that she didn’t need a bra when he had hands, which if she hadn’t already put on pants probably would’ve ended with another orgasm as he instead massaged her bare back. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Alright,” Taylor said when they eventually stepped outside into the sun, looking presentable but awfully guilty with their reddened lips and a hint of the bruise on the side of her neck she’d tried to cover with make up on the off-chance she bumped into anyone on her adventure. “So whoever makes it back here first with their list complete is the winner?”

“That was the plan, yeah.”

Harry smiled as he watched her read over the list in her hands, his own copy tucked into the right pocket of his shorts. She was back in her contacts today with a coat of mascara darkening her lashes. She had on one of his t-shirts, too big on her small frame so that it was more like a dress almost covering her shorts. He wanted to take a picture, but she had her camera tucked inside the bag on her back.

“May the best man win,” Taylor challenged, grinning as she extended her hand out to him. Harry shook it once and tugged her into a parting kiss. She held his hand even after their lips broke apart, swinging it a little with a sweet smile before letting go and skipping off with a wave. He watched her go up the track towards the toilet block and he understood why — he’d made her take nature’s way again earlier and she’d thrown the roll of toilet paper at his head when she returned in annoyance, but as he pointed out, at least she hadn’t needed to pee anymore.

Harry took off down the track they had first explored on a whim. He carried a water bottle in his hand, having let Taylor take the backpack they’d been using over the last few days. He pulled out the list in his pocket and refreshed his memory.

There were fifteen items on the list, but most of them required finding more than one thing before they could be ticked off. It was relatively easy and centred around how lucky you got, but as he should’ve known by now, Harry’s luck on this trip only seemed to score when it came to Taylor.

Harry had a good ten minutes of meandering down the worn in track, three leaves and a stone in his pocket and one tally mark next to the bird category. He spotted a different tree a bit further in — all it took was a squeeze between two bushes and he could pick off a leaf for his collection. Oddly enough, despite insects being on the list, Harry stepped right through without even looking properly. He bitterly blamed the sun for not doing its proper shining duty when he wound up with a spider web on his face.

Harry’s freak out was quite a hilarious display, but luckily for him there wasn’t anyone around to see him wave his arms around in a desperate attempt to get the web off his face. He was more concerned about the possible owner lurking on his body somewhere, waiting to find a good bit of skin to sink its fangs into and poison him so any chance of him having a happy ending was erased. He’d be left lying in some dirt somewhere until another camper or maybe Taylor herself found him, and god knows what that would do to her. She’d go back home heartbroken and guilty, and probably with a major arachnophobia.

Jesus, a few minutes away from Taylor and it was like his mind was trying to compensate with what she would say if she was right beside him. If only it had stopped him from walking into the web in the first place.

Picking off his leaf with at least a more interesting story than “I pulled it off a branch,” Harry continued on his journey with a mental note to properly watch where he was going from now on.

It was another nice day out; they had to thank the heavens for the lovely weather they’d been granted over the course of their trip. The benefit of heading out in spring — it wasn’t too hot, nor was it pouring with rain. It was helping him tick off his list too, with the few dandelions dotted around bringing about bees. It was taking him less time than he’d anticipated.

That thought was naive though, wasn’t it?

Sweet little Harry, hiking through the woods, thinking about his _(“She’s mine now, right?”)_ girl, and thinking about what he would like as his reward for winning their competition. Sweet little Harry, confident despite understanding he might not be the only one with half the list crossed off. Sweet little Harry, casually walking it off as he tripped on a stick, so unaware of what was to come.

Harry’s luck turned to shit, quite literally, approaching twenty minutes into the adventure. (Arguably, Harry’s luck turned to shit when he walked into that spider web, but at least things picked up for him quickly after that.) Peacefully taking a sip from his water bottle, he had the benefit of adding another tally mark to his bird count. What else did he have? Bird poop on his bare arm. The bird that had him so close to ticking off the category decided it needed to go just as it flew over him. Charming.

 _It’s meant to be good luck,_ he reminded himself after a good yell at the offender. He found a wide leaf from a nearby bush and, sparing some of his water for a necessary cause, managed to wipe off the sloppy mess. At least it hadn’t landed somewhere else. A shit to the face would’ve been beyond disgusting. Taylor would never let him live that down, either.

Harry continued on, poop free, for a couple more uneventful minutes. It was a dry spell after the gooey mess that had descended upon him, cursing him so that he couldn’t find anything else he needed. There was the list in his hands, tempting him so close to the finish, yet he had drawn to a halt.

Literally, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He could hear voices further down the bend in the trail. Voices that sure as hell didn’t belong to the only other camper he wanted to hear from.

A quick glance around his surroundings, Harry found himself making a dash around the closest bush to his right. He crouched down in the dirt as he listened carefully to the approaching chatter.

Okay, so hiding behind a bush wasn’t the smoothest move, but what else was he supposed to do? Running off back in the direction he came probably would’ve caused an intriguing disturbance, and what if he was followed back to their tent? If Taylor wasn’t already there, she could easily get caught that way. So really, it was in their best interests for him to sit with leafy coverage and wait for whoever it was to walk past. He’d deal with making it back to camp unnoticed later.

Harry had found himself quite a nice spot, actually. The bush was large with thick leaves, coming up to about his chest when he was standing. He had no clue what kind it was, but he was fairly certain eating any of the tiny berries hanging in between branches was out of the question. To his left stood one of the tall, old trees dominating the forest. Together, with the rest of the plants lining the trail, it made the perfect hiding spot.

Harry watched the army of ants heading up the tree trunk as the bodies came close enough to be eavesdropped on.

“Why don’t we steal the keys and get the fuck out of here?” one voice suggested.

“Because you’re a shit driver,” came the blunt reply from another girl. Harry could only decipher their pairs of footsteps on the dirt floor. They were walking slowly.

“I honestly can’t stand another minute of this,” declared the first girl. “We’re leaving in what — five hours? Five fucking hours. This is the stupidest idea dad’s ever had.”

“It hasn’t been _that_ bad.”

“We had to pee in _bushes,_ Bianca. That’s _primitive!_ ”

Harry smiled at that. Just two girls complaining — there was no harm in that, as long as he kept his cover.

“Fine, I have a better idea,” she continued. “Did you see that black car up in the parking lot? That’s fucking expensive.”

Hold up.

Harry perked up, eyes darting from the ant family running the length of the tree to the vague direction the girls were in. He knew that car. That was _his_ fucking expensive car.

“Why don’t we take a proper look at it, eh?”

No. No you fucking don’t.

“Anna, we—”

“Who do you think it belongs to? People don’t just buy cars like that unless they have money; it’s gotta be someone famous. Who lives around here?”

Harry crossed his fingers. _Don’t say me don’t say me don’t say me._

“Um, I don’t know… Taylor Swift has a house here, doesn’t she?”

Fuck.

The sound of footsteps ceased just past Harry’s hiding place. He held his breath instinctively.

“Do you _honestly_ think _Taylor Swift_ would come out _here_ and have to deal with _peeing_ in _bushes?_ ” asked Anna incredulously. “You’re out of your fucking mind. She could afford to rent out every room in every hotel in the city; why the fuck would she want to come out _here?_ ”

Booking out an entire hotel — huh, maybe Harry would have to consider that for next time.

“She might just want a break away from people. She might like camping,” Bianca reasoned. Harry guessed she was the younger of the two, and at this point he liked her more than the other girl.

“Right, and I suppose she doesn’t just date boys so she can write songs, too?”

Oh fuck this Anna girl. How bad would it be if Harry just jumped out of the bushes and fought her on this?

Really bad, yeah. Stay seated with your clenched fists for your own good, Styles.

“I can’t believe you still say that.”

“I can’t believe you still defend her.”

Harry couldn’t believe he was listening in on an argument between two teenage girls over his sort of girlfriend. (She wasn’t his girlfriend, was she?)

“You ready for her next album?” Anna pushed on. “Might as well call it “Harry Styles” and make it easier on everyone.”

“Why are you always such a bitch about her? What did she ever do wrong, apart from date a guy in boy band? That wasn’t even wrong; people like _you_ just made it shit for them.”

“If she didn’t want people to shit on her relationships, maybe she shouldn’t be such a whiny slut.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

If Harry were to fashion a flag out of a twig and some leaves right now, it sure as fuck would feature a massive “B” on it. If he couldn’t defend Taylor himself, at least _someone_ was. He’d always hated this shitty, pointless view. He craved the day both of them could spend time with someone without it becoming this insane debate.

“Why don’t you learn what you’re talking about before you say it, huh?” Bianca proposed, and Harry nodded in silent agreement.

“Oh, and you’re an expert, are you? Do you _know_ her, B? Did she _tell you_ all this?”

“Taylor’s genuine but everyone’s too delusional to see it! Everyone thinks they know who she is because she writes about her experiences in her songs but they don’t try and _look_. Not properly, anyway. Anyone with half a brain could see she was happy with Harry but no one could see through their careers and look at how they fit as _people_.”

“Yeah, she was real happy until he—”

Fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Caught up in his Taylor Defence Squad mode, Harry hadn’t considered the long term consequences of sitting next to a tree favoured by ants. He hadn’t even noticed the few that had crawled up his shoes, but he certainly noticed the one on his shin that was apparently a fan of biting. He hadn’t thought twice about slapping it dead, only acting out of immediate reaction.

But now he could think clearly, since the girls had stopped talking at the foreign sound, and he realised that he could’ve easily flicked off the little menace instead of whacking it with his palm.

Oops.

“What was that?” Anna asked warily after a few long seconds.

Harry waited for an answer, waited for one of them to walk right over to his hiding spot and point him out. He waited for the inevitable freak out, from both the girls and from the rest of the world when they posted it everywhere. “ _Fans Find Harry Styles Hiding in Bushes_ ” — he could see the headlines now.

Harry heard footsteps and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. This was it. This was going to be their downfall.

“Where are you going?” Anna demanded as the steps continued back past Harry and up the way they had first came.

“Back to camp. I didn’t want to walk with you in the first place.”

“You can’t _leave_ me here. What about the car? Bianca. Bianca!”

With the sound of hurried steps to catch up, Harry waited until they faded and he could hear only the sounds of nature that had become their constant soundtrack. He stood and backed up as soon as he felt safe, swearing under his breath as he brushed the rest of the ants off. Jesus Christ, _what_ just happened?

Harry hastily headed back the way he came. He could finish the list by overlapping his track, and if he couldn’t manage it he could just accept defeat. That was certainly better than getting caught and winding up on the cover of every tabloid.

By the time he had all but one item ticked off, Harry had lost track of how long it had taken him. He was sure Taylor would’ve already finished by now, so he wasn’t really in much of a rush. He wandered casually yet he was hyper-aware of any unusual noises, for the most part letting himself enjoy the freeness he felt walking around in nature all alone. It reminded him of the break he got from everything when he went home to his family. He would have to take Taylor back there again someday.

The last thing on the list was the easiest. From the start, he had decided he was going to leave it until last. It seemed like a fitting ending to the challenge.

Already having passed the tree he had attempted to climb what felt like forever ago, Harry picked one that looked relatively similar. He found a stick on the ground and a smooth bit of bark and started carving “H + T” into it as neatly as he could manage. Even if they returned to their busy lives and things didn’t work out, this would always be there. Their initials would stand engraved in this tree and in another where Taylor had done the same, for as long as the bark didn’t heal itself. Anyone passing by could see it if they had a keen eye, and maybe they would stop and wonder where whoever these two were were now. Maybe they would write their own initials. Maybe they would hope for the best.

Or maybe no one would notice and it would be just another secret to add to their adventure.

Whatever happened after Harry stepped back from the tree, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting back to his girl and making the most of the last definite hours they had left.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Harry’s return trip to camp was a delayed one. With his anxiety of bumping into someone else at its peak, a rustling from further into the woods sent him running to the opposite side of the trail. He took cover behind another tree, also popular with ants, and, as it turns out, directly next to a cosy home for wasps.

At first, Harry had absolutely nothing to do with the bush a metre or so away that housed the ruthless stingers. He was standing as normally as one can behind this tree, quickly realising that the sound he had heard wasn’t from a human and that now he just looked like a paranoid weirdo.

It was when Harry noticed a fucking huge spider web between a couple branches not all that far from his head that the bush came into play.

Harry backed away from the tree with a “What the fuck lives in _that?!_ ” stumble. He scanned the web for any sign of its creator, but the only thing that turned up was the wonder of why he could hear so much buzzing. He made the fatal mistake of brushing against the bush as he turned around to investigate.

Harry preferred the bird shit on his arm over the shooting pain he had now.

“Mother fucking— son of a _bitch_ —” he spat, cupping his hand over the sting as he got the fuck out of there. “Fucking wasp, what the _fuck_ —”

No, seriously, what the fuck? Bees are so forgiving, only stinging you if they _really_ feel threatened. Wasps are like their scary older brother who has violent tendencies, stinging you for the pure fun of it. Harry hardly posed a threat; wasps just have no chill. No chill, only fiery stingers that could very well come back for more if they feel like being bigger assholes.

When pouring the remaining drops of water he had over his arm offered weak relief, Harry’s next reaction was to pull out his phone.

 **Text:** to **_TAY TAY_**

 **>** _Injury. SOS._

He spent minutes of walking waiting for a reply, until it eventually occurred to him that she was probably out of range again. Fuck her dodgy signal, fuck nature, fuck himself for this stupid idea of an adventure. Fuck _everything_.

Several more minutes of grumbling and frowning in pain, their clearing came into view and Harry clambered into the tent to find a surprised-looking Taylor with half a cookie in her mouth.

“Did you get lost?” she guessed through her mouthful as she moved over to give him more room to sort himself out.

“I got stung,” he pouted, showing off the red mark on his upper arm like a child come running to their mother. “I texted you but you didn’t reply.”

Taylor’s expression instantly etched into a frown as she wriggled closer and inspected his sore. “Oh, _babe_ ,” she breathed, looking up at him in concern. “What happened? What can I do?”

Harry described his wasp encounter dramatically as Taylor rummaged through the first aid kit for something to help ease the pain. It had dulled on his walk back but it still hurt, the goddamn bastard bug. She rubbed some cream over the sting, which didn’t really help but she gave him an apology kiss so he thought he would be okay in the end.

“So how’d you go with the list?” Taylor asked, fingers running through his hair as a soothing distraction. He wanted to lie down and close his eyes and have her take care of him forever.

“Alright,” he replied. “I got there eventually.”

“Sounds like you had more of an adventure than I did.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

So as they compared their leaves and their rocks and their photographs, Harry recounted his spider web incident and how he’d been pooped on and the run in with the girls in great detail that had Taylor wide eyed and laughing. She told him about how there was toilet paper all over the ladies room like a mummy had unravelled themselves in there and that she’d seen a really little bird chase a butterfly and how she had been on the phone with Karlie until her signal cut out. It reminded him to text his mum again to let her know he was doing alright and that he would call her tomorrow. He didn’t wait for her reply.

They didn’t know what to do with the bits of nature they’d collected and had spread over the blankets. Taylor offered to press the leaves in a scrapbook, but none of them were particularly unique. She ended up doing a messy leaf rubbing on the back of her list with a Sharpie as Harry looked over one of the Polaroids she had taken.

“I took two of those ones,” she told him without looking up from her drawing. She knew which one he was staring at. “I thought you might like to keep one. It should be around somewhere."

“Yeah, thank you,” Harry smiled as he looked down at the photo of her tree carving. “TS + HS” in a surprisingly neat love heart, done on a tree just outside their tent. It looked so hipster in the soft Polaroid filter and he already planned on pinning it up in his apartment somewhere. They’d taken so many these past few days; he wondered what he could do with them once they divided the stack between them.

“It didn’t really work,” Taylor decided, holding up her black blob of a drawing with a disappointed frown.

“You’ve got to use crayons,” Harry pointed out.

“Note to self: pack crayons next time you go camping.”

Taylor grinned, setting her paper aside and starting to move their collection of things with it. Harry wondered if there actually would be a next time, if maybe they could find another ground to sneak out to and spend a couple of days at. Better yet, maybe they wouldn’t have to hide. Maybe they could be open about everything (well, _almost_ everything) and things could work.

“So, I was thinking about my prize while I was waiting,” she added casually, smile teasing her lips. “I still want a prize; don’t think I forgot about that part.”

Harry laughed; he knew she wouldn’t. He asked what she wanted and shut his eyes at her request, tempted to peek when he heard her rummaging around behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked when he felt something being placed on top of his head. Taylor didn’t answer, just pressed her lips to his and pulled his hair tie out. She shook his hair out and whatever she had put on top slid off, and she whined as she pulled away.

“Your hair’s too shiny,” she complained. “I guess you can open your eyes now.”

Harry blinked to see Taylor smiling at him, head tilted and a strand of her hair across her eye. He brushed it away and pulled her into another kiss, only short when she broke away to speak again.

“I’m actually your prize.”

He raised his eyebrow questioningly. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to get a prize.”

Taylor smiled. “I want my prize to be you, which means we both win.”

Harry followed her pointed finger to the open box of condoms now sitting beside him, one packet lying on the blanket by itself. His lips curved into a smirk.

“What are we waiting for?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The rest of the lovely day’s sun was wasted on the two huddled up in the tent, so engrossed in each other to care what weather they were missing out on. What they had missed was each other — for so goddamn long they had missed each other, and who knows when they would get the chance to break the cycle again.

Lying bare on top of the blankets, they cuddled and talked and munched through the food they had left between the kisses that instigated another round of playful sex. They giggled and teased each other all throughout, Harry’s favourite when he whispered a bad pun in Taylor’s ear and she laughed and asked for “More, babe,” and he’d thought she meant more puns, not more of his dick. (“What do you call dangerous precipitation?” “Oh my god, Harry, babe, I didn’t—” “With a steak to the heart.” “A rain of terror.”)

Aside from all the feelings and attraction, Taylor had to be his favourite in bed for the simple reason of being the only one to appreciate a mid-fuck pun. Very important.

“What do you think would happen if someone walked in on us right now?” Taylor pondered during one break, hair tangled and with Harry’s hand idly fondling one of her breasts. They’d become unable to tear apart from each other, always had to be touching in some way. Her own hand was fiddling with his hair.

“Depends who it was,” Harry said, smiling softly down at her. Lying propped up on his side, he looked down fondly at the girl on her back gazing up at him with starry eyes. That look had become permanent ever since he’d thrown their nature collection outside and taken off her clothes.

“At least if we were fucking and they took a picture I could hide underneath you and deny everything.”

“You’d deny all this fun we’ve been having?” he asked with mock shock, sliding his hand down her body and back between her legs. She was still wet, from her last lot of come or from being beside this gloriously naked man for hours, he wasn’t sure.

“Oh you’re shit,” Taylor laughed, whining as his fingers moved up and down slowly. “A photo of this would ruin me.”

“If it _had_ to happen, it might as well be spectacular, eh?” Harry smiled as she bit down on her bottom lip when he teased her opening with one fingertip. “Get a really good deep throating shot. You can be sitting on my face, if you’d like.”

She shook her head. “Something passionate. Show them how we really feel.”

“Would you like a passionate fuck now, love?”

“I would like a cookie.”

Harry started laughing as she smiled up at him, innocent and expectant. He pulled his hand away and licked his fingers clean before finding her a cookie, which she accepted delightfully. She guided his hand back to her breast as she ate, and he managed to decipher a “Feels good with your huge hand” through her cookie-muffled speech.

“’s not that big,” he argued, despite the massive fingers spread out on her pale skin. Taylor challenged him to compare it with her own to prove her point, laughing as they pressed their palms together.

“This is why I always liked holding your hand,” she grinned at her smaller one. “And… I feel safe in your arms. That could be for a couple of different reasons, though.”

“Do you really?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah… Like, I was kind of… I wasn’t always sure where I stood with you, but I knew when we were together that I had your undivided attention and that you wanted to take care of me.” She intertwined their fingers and met his gaze, smiling. “Not to sound really cliché, but you make me feel special in a way that I haven’t felt before.”

Harry leaned in to kiss her sweetly, heart warmed by her words. “Not to sound worse, but I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Taylor nodded, lips curved up as she chased his once more. “I’m really gonna miss you when we get back.”

“What’s gonna happen between us?”

“I don’t know.”

That wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for. Harry wanted an elaborate explanation of how they were going to give their relationship another go — fuck everyone else’s opinions. With their growth over the past year, in maturity and confidence, they could take on anything. King and Queen of current pop. They were going to be the best damn couple anyone had ever seen.

Underneath his hopelessly optimistic ideas, Harry knew that was just another fantasy to add to the list.

Silence fell between them, and Harry broke it with not the most welcoming statement: “Louis said you were going to leave after this.” She frowned slightly and he clarified, “On the phone yesterday. He said you were gonna leave and if you didn’t you would eventually.”

“Oh, Harry,” Taylor sighed sadly, giving his hand she was still holding onto a squeeze. “I don’t want to. I _really_ don’t want to, but I don’t know how we’re going to make this work. You’re touring, I’m going to be doing album promo, you’ll be doing album promo, I’ll be touring, you’ll be touring — how are we supposed to work around that?”

“We can still video chat. And we’ll have breaks, so we can hang out then,” he said. “It won’t be easy, but—”

“But what if it happens again?” she interrupted seriously. “What happens if everyone goes crazy like last time and we don’t get left alone? I don’t want that to come between us again.”

Harry gave a small nod, glancing away. She was right. Ever since they’d broken up and he’d thought about them getting back together, he knew that argument was right. He just wanted with every fibre of his being for it not to be.

“I don’t think you’re ready for it, babe,” she added, as if she hadn’t already put a pin to his bubble of hope. “I don’t think _I’m_ ready for it. I really, really want this to work, Harry, and maybe if we wait it’ll be better.”

“Wait until when?”

“I don’t know… Until you can’t take it anymore and you show up at my apartment with a thousand roses?”

Harry couldn’t help his small laugh. “Bonus points if I serenade you.”

“Exactly.” Taylor was smiling softly as she brought her hand up to run through his hair again. “Babe— hey, c'mon, look at me. You love me right?”

Eyes now locked on hers, he nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

“You’d do anything for me?”

“Of course.”

“Then I want you to wait until you’re super sure you want a relationship again. ‘cause you’re not sure right now, are you?”

Harry wanted to be able to disagree, but he couldn’t do that to them, not when he so desperately wanted them to last. “I really… I really want to do this properly,” he told her. “I, um… yeah. You’re right.”

Taylor leaned up to kiss him, and he was somewhat surprised, considering the we’re-about-to-put-our-clothes-back-on-and-stay-that-way vibe of the conversation. “This doesn’t mean I want you any less, y'know,” she assured him, and Harry’s lips tugged at a cheeky smile.

“’s kinda making me want you more.”

“Well, I’m not ruling out what we’ve been doing now, if you’re still interested.”

“Do you really think I’d say no to that?”

“Not when you’re always so horny.”

Taylor tried to hold back her laugh but she couldn’t for long, the both of them dissolving into giggles. Harry kissed her again, all smiles between them. “I love you,” he whispered, and she said it back in her pull of his body on top of her and the intensity of her lips.

They would be okay.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

By the time it was dark, they’d both lost count of how many times they’d accidentally choked on food while trying to eat whilst laying down and of how many orgasms they’d shared. All they had left were some rejected lettuce leaves and slices of tomato after triumphantly making it through everything else. And as determined as Harry was to get through the whole condom box before they left, he thought that maybe, _maybe_ his enthusiasm for eating Taylor out had squandered that goal.

“I can’t, Harry— I—”

“You can, baby, you’re almost there—”

“I _can’t_ — I— _Ughh_ —”

Taylor looked and sounded absolutely wrecked. Her hair was a tangled mess of waves, her lips a permanent shade of red, and dark love bites littered all over her pale-skinned torso. She’d had more sex in this one day than she’d had this past year, and as eager as she had been every single time they had put away the snacks and conversations for another round of fun, neither of them were superhuman.

Even so, Taylor moved in time with his thrusts, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open with a string of unfairly erotic desperate moans escaping constantly. She writhed underneath him, tugging hard at his hair when he went deeper. Harry loved it when she was so raw and uncensored.

“God, Harry— I— I can’t, baby— I’m— fuck—”

“You’re doing so good, baby, you’re almost—”

“Fuck, _Harry_ —”

Her back arching, Taylor looked like she was in pain when she bit down on her bottom lip as Harry quickened his pace. That barely lasted long, with lips parting and an unashamedly loud cry of his name taking its place. Harry cursed as his own orgasm was snatched from underneath him at the sound. By now he was certain that there was _nothing_ sexier than the sound of Taylor Swift coming.

Panting breathlessly for the wonderfully unknown'th time, Taylor wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck, holding him close and tight and refusing to let go. He wouldn’t complain, not when he slipped one arm around her waist and the other under her head to return the embrace. She wouldn’t complain that it was uncomfortable laying on his arm or that she didn’t want him limp and still inside her, not when he was cradling her head in his hand and whispering how much he loved her.

Because Harry really loved her. Harry had fallen for her in the most naive way before he had ever even met her. Harry liked her more as soon as he did. Harry had never been able to get her off his mind from that moment on, and that’s how he knew she was someone special. His feelings weren’t a phase, they weren’t about to fade out when another pretty girl came along. Taylor had always been the most captivating woman in the room and Harry loved every inch of her. From the top of her head to tip of her toes, Harry loved her. From her dorkiness to her seriousness, Harry loved her. From her gentle smiles to her gorgeous moans, Harry loved her. And for not one single minute had he ever regretted any of it.

Which was exactly why he had quickly gotten over her suggestion to wait. Harry’s heart knew where it was and where it wanted to be, and all he had to do was wait for his mind to finish catching up. He could manage that.

It was Harry who made the first move to break apart. Taylor barely let him go far, just enough for him to tie off the condom and set it aside. She cuddled back up to him when he lay on his side, cheek pressed up against his bare chest. He could feel that her heartbeat still hadn’t settled.

“You alright, love?” he whispered, rubbing her back gently.

“I think… it’s possible to have too much sex… so your whole body feels like… jelly,” she answered slowly and softly. “No, not jelly… Like… Like kind of weightless… but also heavy? I wanna sleep for days.”

Harry smiled to himself over his tired girl. “Do you want a quick nap, love? We should start packing soon.”

“I don’t wanna go,” she declared, nuzzling up against him. “I wanna fall asleep with you and wake up with you tomorrow and the next day and all the days after that.”

“I know, Tay, I know. D'you wanna take your contacts out for me, love? You can have a nap now.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yeah, love, you should.”

After a very reluctant effort to move, Taylor dozed off almost straight away when her head returned to the pillow. Harry continued rubbing her back until he started feeling sleepy himself. There wasn’t any point in trying to stay awake, not when there wasn’t anything to do and he had to drive soon. He closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep with her in his arms for the last time in god knows how long.

Unfortunately, it didn’t even last long enough to reach the hour mark.

“What on earth was that?” Harry jumped, snapped awake by a loud echoing crash too close for comfort. He started disentangling himself from Taylor, who was blinking through the darkness in confusion.

“I think we got hit,” she mumbled, rolling onto her back and rubbing her eyes. “Come _back_ , you’re warm.”

Harry was searching for his clothes by the light of his iPhone, finding them rejected at either end of the tent. He tugged them on awkwardly while Taylor watched him with a pout.

“Do you _have_ to check?” she complained sleepily, and he shushed her as he searched for the torch to investigate the source of their disturbance. Harry was glad he did, too.

“Taylor? Taylor, love, come check this out.”

Outside, the torch beam revealed a fallen tree branch only a metre or so away from their tent. It was probably part of Camping 101 not to pitch your tent too close to any trees for the very risk of a branch coming loose and dropping down, but we all know Harry wasn’t clued up on all that.

“Holy shit, we could’ve just died,” Taylor gaped when she emerged clothed a minute later to see the thick branch laying in the dirt, alone and menacing with its width and leafy extensions.

The pair of them stood awestruck at the idea of what could’ve happened. As concerned as they were about being caught by someone out here, it hadn’t occurred to either of them that the trip could be _fatal._

What a story that would be, huh? _“Bodies of Pop Stars Harry Styles and Taylor Swift Found Crushed in Woods.”_ The media would have a field day with the speculations over that. Only having giving limited information on their whereabouts and their intentions, who would be there to confirm or deny whatever wild ideas got published? The whole thing would be a kind of mystery, which wouldn’t be the worst way to leave the world, but certainly not the best when rumours about why the fuck Harry and Taylor were found _naked_ in a _tent_ in the _woods_ would be posted literally _everywhere._

“Guess we might want to get packing, then,” Harry said, breaking the daze they had both descended into.

Taylor nodded, and they slipped back into the tent and started sorting through their things in silence. She went through her bag, neatening everything and checking that it was all there, while Harry dealt with their supplies and the rubbish they’d collated over the last few days. He stacked the cooler and their bags outside as she folded the blankets back up into tidy rectangles.

A quiet kind of sadness had fallen between them — not because they’d luckily escaped a tragedy, _again_. This was it. Their getaway was nearly over.

After setting the blankets and pillows on top of their things, Taylor tucked herself under Harry’s arm, the pair of them facing the now empty tent. “This has been a few of the greatest days, you know?” she said softly, looking at him with a smile. “Thank you so much for this.”

“Thank you for going along with it. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“You’ve got to live a little sometimes, don’t you?”

Harry smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You know what I’ve realised? Camping is so… in _tense_.”

Taylor laughed harder than she should’ve. “I actually hate you,” she teased.

“Think we can manage to get this thing down, now?”

“Probably not.”

They did, though, since Taylor located the instructions and was in charge of their every move. It didn’t go completely smoothly, of course, with Harry tripping over the poles and fabric on multiple occasions. Oh Harry, always providing some good entertainment.

Juggling their belongings up to the car park with only the light of the torch and the moonlight streaming through the tree tops to guide them, they laughed and joked along the way, teasing each other whenever one of them would jump at an unexpected sound. Taylor almost dropped everything in her arms in laughter when Harry burst into a very dramatic and very loud rendition of (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life. She tried to quieten him, but ultimately she couldn’t resist succumbing to the song. By the time they made it to his car, they had graced the grounds with a ridiculous duet and uncontrollable laughter.

“Babe, did you get a _parking ticket?_ ” Taylor asked, still giggling as she waited for him to unlock the doors so she could dump their stuff inside.

“Fucking hope not,” he said as he put what he was carrying down on the hood of his car. He’d completely forgotten the conversation he had overheard earlier until he lifted the piece of paper tucked under the windshield.

 _“Follow me on Twitter @pxstelanna18 xo”_ read the blue ink, curved in girly handwriting.

Harry started laughing again and he handed the note and the torch to Taylor for her to read. “It’s from the girl from earlier. The mean one who wanted to snoop around my car. She actually did it.”

Taylor giggled while he grabbed his keys and let them in. “Dare you to do it,” she grinned as he did a quick check of the outside, just in case the note wasn’t the only thing the girl left.

“Then she’ll know it was me here.”

“Not necessarily. She might be too excited to make the connection.”

Maybe so, but Harry wasn’t going to take the risk when they’d managed to disappear so well. They piled their things onto the back seat in another balancing act, and after an argument over whether or not Taylor should venture into the dark and quite frankly horror movie-like bathroom (she did), they were on the road.

It was a quieter journey than the one on the way there, the radio on and filling the car with some background noise. With her phone plugged into the charger, Taylor messed around on it for a while before she dozed off again. Harry kept one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh, glancing over with a fond smile every so often at her relaxed in the seat beside him. The empty road was straight and long and he drove just under the speed limit. The clear night made him want to drive for longer than they had.

By the time the scenery out the windows started to build back up into the city, Harry was hungry again after skipping a substantial meal. He woke Taylor up gently and suggested they find somewhere to stop. She welcomed the idea with a smile, and she surprised him when they spotted a sign for an upcoming In-N-Out Burger and she started unbuckling her seatbelt.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying hard to focus on the road and not on Taylor climbing through into the back seat.

“We’ve made it all this way, we’re not about to be pictured buying burgers,” she explained as she lay down on the floor. “Don’t suddenly crash, 'cause I don’t want to die, either.”

“I’ll try not to,” he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief over the effort they were going to.

With one of the darker-coloured blankets thrown over her, Taylor stayed hidden while Harry went through the drive thru, trying to act casual as he ordered food for two. (Or three, really, with the excessive amount of fries they’d impulsively decided on.) He was as polite as ever to the star-struck girl working the window, even when she started to tear up instead of handing over their order. He signed a napkin for her and wished her a good night while Taylor stifled giggles in the background.

“That’s not how you hide, love,” he chastised with a grin as soon as he drove away.

“I love how sweet you are with everyone, it’s very endearing.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Cruising through the empty parking lot, abandoned for the night with the shutters down on the closed storefronts of the small shopping centre, Harry pulled to a stop under the outer rim of a lamp post’s glow. Taylor re-emerged from under the blanket and climbed back into the front, laughing when he tapped her ass on the way through. She kissed him before settling herself with her back against the door, her long legs stretching across to rest on his lap, bare toes wiggling freely.

Their late night dinner of cheeseburgers and fries was eaten through a sing-a-long session with the radio. They belted out a variety of tunes, made more interesting with the Great Chip Challenge Harry started.

“We’re not leaving until you get it right,” Taylor stated when a fry hit the window instead of her open mouth. Not once had he managed to throw one on target ever since he’d tossed one at her for fun a few minutes earlier.

“’m gonna get it,” he said confidently, only to completely miss again. Those damn direction skills.

“Look at all these fries you’ve wasted, Harry,” she said, pointing accusingly at the few on the floor, one hanging out of the shoes she’d slipped off. “You look like a loser. Do you want to be a loser?”

Apparently her encouragement came a bit tough.

“Bet I could get it first shot,” she added, though when he challenged her to live up to her word she missed just as he had.

“You look like a loser, Taylor,” Harry mocked, picking the chip up off his lap and waving it around emphatically. She rolled her eyes and shoved one in her mouth herself.

When Harry eventually did manage to succeed — thank god for all the extra fries he’d ordered — it was met with an excited cheer and enthusiastic high-five, hands slapping together loudly. They stayed parked there for a while longer, talking and dragging out the inevitable goodbye. But they couldn’t put it off forever, as much as they wanted to, so when Taylor got a “Where are you???” text from Karlie they thought they should probably face that fact.

Their singing ceased for the rest of the ride, replaced by silent stares as the radio rolled on. Taylor was watching him pay attention to the road — well, _mostly_. Harry could never really stop himself from glancing her way, knowing smiles creeping up on their faces every time. He wondered how bad the consequences would be if they took off for a couple more days.

Harry switched off his headlights when they neared Karlie’s place, and with some careful slow driving and coordination over the phone they pulled up outside. Turning off the engine, they descended into complete silence, no pop beats to keep their spirits up any longer. They didn’t even look at each other at first, as if that would change anything.

When their gazes finally did meet, Taylor’s lips slowly turned up into a smile. She leaned across and held his face in her hands, taking him by surprise at the intensity of her kiss. One last kiss before they had to part ways — might as well make it a memorable one.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, but they couldn’t linger around for too long. It was late, it was likely no one would be around to notice, but the risk was always there. Taylor grabbed her bag from the back and smiled at him, and Harry tried his hardest to imprint this one last memory in his mind forever. He wanted to remember her look of not wanting to leave.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said quietly, eyes staying on his as she reached for the door.

Harry nodded, and his “I love you” came out in a rush.

“I love you too,” Taylor smiled at him one more time before slipping out of the car and into the darkness, white shirt — _his_ white shirt — glowing in the night. Harry watched her until she was gone, disappeared behind the safety of closed doors. He watched the building longer than necessary.

The air in the car was different without Taylor there. It was too quiet, too lonely after spending all this time with her by his side. Harry thought he could still smell her shampoo, the sweet scent fading with every moment spent driving away from her. A lump formed in his throat when he wistfully wondered how long it would be until he could smell it again.

Returning home was worse. It was cold and empty; everything left exactly how he had left it. As much freedom as he felt being able to do whatever he liked in a place of his own, it suddenly felt wrong not to be sharing it with someone. There was so much more he could do with the space if there was an extra body. More photographs, more records, more decor, more of all those personal touches that make a house feel like home. This didn’t feel so homey anymore.

Harry left most of the supplies by the door, only taking one of his bags back to his room. He started unpacking just for something to do. He needed to busy himself, needed to keep his hands doing something so he didn’t have to think so much about everything else. He threw a bundle of clothes in the laundry to be washed and returned his toiletries to the bathroom, debating having a shower but deciding against it. He wasn’t ready to wash off the last few days.

For half an hour Harry wandered around from room to room restlessly. Normally he was good at finding things to do on his own, but nothing was catching his interest. The only thing that felt right was calling Taylor, and even that didn’t sound like the wisest idea.

The next best thing was, apparently, looking through the Polaroids he’d kept. They had split them up between them earlier in the afternoon, and Harry let himself indulge in the memories while they were still fresh in his mind. (He would later do this again and again whenever he couldn’t reach her and missing her got too much.)

With his half of the collection spread over his bed, Harry studied each of them, small smile fixed on his face. He started arranging them in different groups — in order of which they were taken; according to what was in the photo; according to their colour scheme; and which ones were his favourite. That group was the hardest — his favourites.

If he absolutely had to decide on only one, Harry would pick the Polaroid of Taylor blurry from laughter. He’d taken it laying down with her sitting on his lap, glasses on and shirt missing. That wasn’t even why he liked it — she could’ve been wearing anything and he would’ve always been drawn to her wide-opened mouth, eyes closed and head tilted back at something silly he’d said. That happiness was what was really beautiful.

Harry set the Polaroid down on his bedside table and collected up the rest. He began putting them around the house, random spots for him to rediscover in the next day. Maybe that would help him.

He took his time getting ready for bed. He gave his teeth a good brush as well as his hair, washed his face and patted it down with a towel. He moved slowly as he climbed out of his clothes and into his bed, switching off the lamp and curling up under the covers.

Harry dared to light up his phone, only to find it as empty as it was every other time he’d hopefully checked it that night. This time it didn’t stop him from unlocking it and starting to type a text.

 **Text:** to **_TAY TAY_**

 **>** _Have a good night, love. Missing you already xxx_

Putting his phone back on the table, Harry turned over; he wouldn’t wait around for her reply. He grabbed the extra pillow on the other side of the bed and hugged it to his chest, as if it could really compensate for having no one to cuddle tonight. It was better than nothing, and it eventually let Harry’s mind settle and drift off into a peaceful sleep.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The first thing Harry did the next morning was check his phone. He barely even let himself fully wake up first, just giving a rub of his eyes before fumbling for it on the table. The clock read midday, but he didn’t care about that. What he cared about was the notifications from the girl he’d spent the night dreaming about.

 **Text:** from **_TAY TAY_**

 **>** _Catching up with Karlie last night and I crashed before I saw this, sorry!!_

 **>** _I really miss you too :( xx_

Harry smiled lazily as he typed back.

 **Text:** to **_TAY TAY_**

 **>** _Hope you had a nice sleep love xx_

Setting his phone down beside him on the sheet, Harry stretched, his smile turning into a laugh. He rolled on his side and onto his stomach as he grabbed the pillow, hugging it again as he grinned blissfully. She missed him. This whole thing hadn’t been some vivid over-the-top dream of his. She actually missed him.

Reaching for his phone again, he quickly started typing.

 **Text:** to **_TAY TAY_**

 **>** _What should I have for breakfast? What did you have? xx_

He rocked side to side, feeling like an excited kid. He didn’t think he should be feeling so happy over being in love with someone he couldn’t call his own just yet, but he’d survived the first sleep without her, so maybe he could handle all the rest. Maybe this would be like telling her in the first place — not as bad as he’d feared.

It was only a few minutes later when his phone buzzed with replies.

 **Text:** from **_TAY TAY_**

 **>** _You only just woke up, didn’t you? Well, babe, I had Karlie make me eggs, but I’m thinking you should have Coco Pops._

 **>** _I love you xx_

With the last message came an attachment, which he opened eagerly. It was a photo of the first Polaroid she’d taken — the one of him, mouth open wide and tongue sticking out ready for the spoonful of cereal half way there. This — this was _exactly_ what he wanted with someone. He wanted someone to take pictures of these seemingly insignificant moments and see the beauty in simplicity. He wanted to remember eating those Coco Pops and trying to climb that tree and her falling over trying to dance and piggybacking her back to camp and building a fire and roasting marshmallows and hearing her album for the first time and kissing her again and dancing in the lake and sharing a shower and losing at cards and cuddling with her and playing badminton and almost getting caught and eating too much and making love to her. He wanted to remember making her smile and making her laugh and making her moan and making her roll her eyes. He wanted to remember how it felt to hold her hand and have her in his arms and have her lips on his and be inside her again. He wanted to remember the way she sounded in the morning and in that intimate night and how she sounded saying those three beautiful words.

For the rest of his life, he wanted to remember these days where he first really felt what it was like to be in love and to be loved.

Harry couldn’t stop smiling as he typed back.

 **Text:** to **_TAY TAY_**

 **>** _From the very first day xxxx_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really /really/ hope you enjoyed this!! I had a wonderfully difficult time writing and I'd love to know what you thought. I've got a couple more ideas going so hopefully I'll get to posting another eventually. Until then, you can find me on tumblr @alltootay! All the love, F xxx


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